Page 66 of Unstable

Can’t say as I’m a fan of either.

They both hurt. A lot.

“You see me touch her? Kiss her? Fuck her?” He challenges with equal rage, both eyebrows raised as high as they’ll go. “Yeah, didn't think so,” he quips when I don’t reply, “because none of that shit happened.”

I stand up and raise my chin, pushing back my shoulders. “O, fucking, kay! It doesn’t matter, geez. We didn’t have…anything. I get it now. Couple kisses, few pet names, not exactly a commitment. It’s fine, we don’t have to fight about this. Just drop it.”

“Didn’t have anything, huh?” He stalks toward me, primal surety scorching in his eyes. “Then why are you so upset at what you think you saw, Hen? You know Merrick cheated and you couldn’t care less. But you see me having a drink with a girl and you flip your shit?”

He’s right in front of me now, and his fury has morphed into a low, sexy rasp and molten stare. “I didn’t betray you, Henley. I called you last night to tell you everything, before I knew that you already knew. We do have something, and you know it as well as I do. Something I plan on pursuing until it’s everything.”

“Then, why were you with her?” God I hate the misery I hear in my voice.

“For you,” he reaches up and grazes my cheek with the back of his hand. “Always, for you. What I have to tell you is a lot to take in, so you get your shower while I make breakfast and we’ll discuss it then. Okay?”

I rapidly shake my head, refusing to fall for this. “I have to let Bourbon out and check the horses. Put some hay out for the cows. Then—”

He covers my lips with a finger. “I'll take care of Bourbon, then help you with the rest. After we eat and talk. Take a breath, grab a shower, and meet me in the kitchen.” He leans in and kisses my forehead. “Go.”

“I'm gonna go take a shower. But only because I want to. You’re not off the hook, Keaton, so you definitely aren’t anywhere near bossing me around territory.”

“Whatever you say, baby,” he laughs. “I’m just happy to hear I was, and still am, on your hook. No place I’d rather be.”

I…can’t even with this man. I don’t recognize myself. Up is down, left is right, and he’s got some kind of spell he keeps casting over me that has me in constant knots.

I lasted eight years in a stupid, stubborn bubble yet just like that, I’m about to eat breakfast with him? Hear him out?

You can’t fight something you don’t understand, and I’m not anywhere close to understanding what it is he does to me, so…I go and take a shower. My stomach churning the entire time. Wondering what this “talk” is going to entail.

And why, more than anything, I want it to be something that exonerates him…and that I believe.

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