She leaves, and I suck in air, trying to ignore the knots in my stomach that I know aren’t from the liquor. Gulping down the second bottle of water, I rise on shaky legs and tear off my jeans and boxers as I make my way to the bathroom.
I don’t want a life without Tate. I don’t want anything without her.
Stepping into the shower, I stumble as I turn on the water. I jerk when the heat hits my body, and even though I should be under a cold spray to sober me up, the hot rush eases my nerves.
I drop my head forward, letting the cascade run down my neck and back, and I suddenly feel the first drop of peace I’ve felt all night.
Tate’s been everything to me for so long, and somehow I thought she always would be. I never doubted it.
In fact, I’d gone to great lengths to stay in her life, be it for good or bad.
And that’s when I realize it. I had given her too much power over me.
My first instinct tonight when I saw her with another man was to hit someone, yell at her, confront them both, but something inside held me back.
I’d always crowded her, pushed her and fought with her, and I didn’t want to be that guy anymore. I left in the first place so I could grow up.
I hear the bathroom door shut, and I pull back the curtain just an inch to see a young woman leaning against it.
She watches me, and I smooth my hair over the top of my head, trying to place her. She looks vaguely familiar.
“Who are you?” I ask, thinking she might be a groupie or someone’s assistant, but I hadn’t paid any attention to other women in a long time, so I wasn’t sure.
Her big brown eyes look shy. “Pasha thought you might need a backrub,” she replies, her voice sounding so innocent.
I narrow my eyes and watch as she slowly starts to take off her clothes, holding my gaze the whole time, as her meaning becomes clear.
I still, slowly releasing the air in my lungs.
Her light brown hair falls over her shoulder, and my heart rate picks up as piece by piece, everything comes off and she stands naked in front of me.
I whisper under my breath, willing myself to tell her to go.
Just tell her to go.
She’s quiet, but I catch the hint of playfulness in her eyes as she cocks her head at me, waiting for an invitation.
“Do you want me to leave?” she asks gently, everything in her look telling me she knows I won’t.
I let my eyes trail down her body, and I can almost feel how warm she would be if I touched her.
How nice it would be to have someone in my bed.
I want her to leave, but I don’t want to be alone.
Tate’s smiles float through my mind, and I steel my jaw as the girl approaches, her presence making the hair on my arms stand up.
She looks up at me with a small smile, and I start to grow hard as I think about her open for me on the bed. I can close my eyes and go at her, get lost in the act and let go of my anger and pain and use her like I have so many other women, but . . .
But I never gain anything from it.
Tomorrow, I’ll hate myself and the cheap act, because nothing compares to fucking someone you love.
Needles prick the back of my throat, and I swallow the lump. “Yeah,” I rasp, looking down at her. “I want you to leave.”
Confusion and a hint of hurt flash through her eyes as she shifts her gaze, probably trying to make sense of why I don’t want her.
I close the shower curtain and finally hear the door open and close, and a wave of relief hits me. For a moment, Tate fades in my head, and every inch of my body feels the gust of a second wind.
I’d let my need for Tate make me do so many bad things in the past and make so many wrong decisions, and I hadn’t realized how much I still lacked control over my own happiness.
She had been everything, and I’d held myself back, acting out and making all the wrong choices, because my head had been so clouded with her—and I’m not doing it anymore.
I get out of the shower, wrap a towel around my waist, and go to bed.
I have a race tomorrow.
A couple of women came and went over the next year and a half, but it was never because I was angry or wanting revenge. I was trying to move on just like Tate had been. I had wanted to go back and fight for her, but not until I was sure I was going to be good for her. And maybe she wouldn’t want me anyway, since she’d moved on. So I let it be.
For a year and a half, I warred between what I wanted and what I thought was right. Either take her back and love her forever, or leave her alone, because all I’ve ever caused her was pain.
But when I came home today and saw her again, that was it. The battle in my head wasn’t there anymore.
She belonged to me. I was built for her.
I looked over, across the dance floor, her table full of our friends and their drinks, while Ben had his lazy hand resting low on her thigh, and I steeled my jaw to prevent the smile.
That touch wasn’t going to do it for her.
Not for her.
Tate wasn’t a slow burn. She liked to be fed on.
Halestorm’s “I Get Off” played over the sound system, and some of our old high school friends sang along on the dance floor. I smiled to myself, remembering how that song always reminded me of her and how we grew up with our windows facing each other. She had a lot of fun taunting me with that window when we were together.
My phone buzzed in my hand, and I slid my thumb over the screen to see a text from Jax.
What are you planning to do when she leaves with him tonight?
I locked eyes with my brother across the dance floor as he flashed me a small, all-knowing grin.
Asshole.
My phone buzzed again.
You have no idea, do you?
I dumped my phone on my table and shot him my middle finger. He laughed and looked at Madoc, who shared his amusement.
What was I supposed to do? Drag her to my car by her hair? Yeah, that would win me points.
But he was right. There was no way I could live with her going home with someone else. As much as I’d learned to control my temper, she was a trigger.
Whatever fling she’d had a year and a half ago, I’d been around to witness only a few minutes of it. Now it was a different matter. Ben wasn’t a bad guy, and Tate knew him somewhat well. Shit could escalate quickly between them.
The girl next to me leaned into my arm, and I looked down at her, almost wishing that I could take her home. I was overloaded with energy and adrenaline, and I wanted a girl in my bed tonight.
I could pretend I was going to take her with me. I could talk myself into it and let her body get mine worked up to where I’d shut off, dive in, and play for a while, but I’d be forcing it. There was only one girl I wanted and who knew exactly what I liked.