Page 79 of Enticed

“Yeah, okay. I can’t remember the last time I saw you swing on a bag. We’ve been gym buddies for how long now… six months at least? And you always pick the treadmill or the stair master—if there aren’t any ladies around.” He rests his shoulder against the wall to the right of the bag, crossing one ankle over the other.

“What the fuck did I tell you about giving me shit for using the Stairmaster, fucker?” I grit my teeth and get dangerously close to his face. The anger pounding through my body is on a level I’ve never felt before and my mind and heart don’t know how to handle it. “That machine has a negative sexual stereotype attached to it. Because I’m a man, I can’t use it? It’s a grueling workoutandit tones my glutes!”

“Hey! I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I can definitely tell how hard you work for that ass,” he chuckles in my face and I swear, if he wasn’t my friend, I’d knock his teeth out right now.

“Fuck you, Cash!” I punch his upper arm and that makes him straighten his spine instantly.

“Wanna box, Coop? Will that make you feel better if you can beat the shit out of me instead of the bag?” His nose is centimeters from mine and I can smell the toothpaste on his breath.

The truth is, I’m finding anyone and anything to be mad at right now because the person I’m the most angry with I can’t talk to.

Nope. I will not call Clara. I will not text Clara. I will not let this ache in my chest with how badly I miss her overpower how fucking pissed off I am.

And most of all, I’m fucking pissed at myself—for not taking the situation into my own hands, for trusting her with my heart and my future. I let my guard down, put myself in a relationship for the first time in years—but I’d never been hurt like this before.

“Nah, I wouldn’t want to make you look bad,” I turn to walk away from Cash but his next words stop me cold.

“The only person you’re making look bad right now is yourself, Walsh. That woman made a mistake—albeit a big one—but you are so dead set on being pissed at the world, you can’t see that she’s human and maybe deserves your forgiveness.”

Slowly twisting my face back to his, my eyes squint as I take in his stance. The fucker is speaking truth like he understands it, when I know for a fact the man doesn’t do love himself.

“You’re a hypocrite, Cash. What do you know about love? Mister I-don’t-do-relationships-only-pussy. I know you feel obligated to get me to see reason right now… but you have no idea how it feels to be kept a secret—to feel like a piece of your soul belongs to another person—and then watch that person toss it to the side like the time you spent together means shit. Tell me, did someone screw you over too and that’s why you are the way you are? Huh?” My forehead rises, my eyebrows trailing behind.

“This isn’t about me, Coop. This is about you pushing away the woman you supposedly love because she gave into her fear. I know, I wasn’t there and didn’t hear what she said.” He rolls his eyes and I clench my fist to stop myself from swinging. “And no, I don’t know much about love, but I do know about forgiveness. Maybe that’s what you’re missing in all of this…”

I rip the tape off of my gloves and throw them at the floor beside his feet. “I’m done,” I say while marching to the locker room to shower off and then head home.

Fuck Cash. I don’t need his unwarranted advice on matters of the heart when the man hasn’t had a relationship last longer than the flavor in a stick of gum. He pushed me to tell him what happened the Monday after the Fourth when my lack of sunshine and rainbows shooting out of my ass alerted him that things didn’t go as planned on Saturday during the party.

But now it’s been almost a week and instead of my anger fading, it’s been building and piling on heavy like bricks thrown in a pile—because the more I think about how things went down—even from the very beginning with me agreeing to keeping things a secret between us when she suggested it—I no longer just blame Clara—I blame myself.

I should have been more adamant about coming clean. Maybe I should have just told Olivia myself and seen what her reaction was and then she, Clara, and me could have sat down and discussed it.

But then at the same time, I think, why do I need mysister’spermission to date Clara? Hell, why does Clara needherpermission? We’re all grown ass adults and Olivia’s opinion doesn’t matter either way.

This entire whiplash of what weshouldhave andcouldhave done is what got us into this mess in the first place. Why does love have to be complicated? Why do people have to make shitty decisions that hurt one another?

I know I can’t be mad at Clara forever—and yet the ache in my chest won’t dissipate when I think about how much I miss her. My entire life was centered on her for months—and now that she’s not the priority in my day, that seeing her the second my shift is done or sharing my bed with her at night isn’t the comfort that soothes me on days when I see shit I can’t unsee and realize how fucked up and crazy this world is that we live in—well, it makes me a miserable human being. Because being with her made all the horrible stuff easier to deal with.

The only nice thing about dating a woman in secret is that going places around town doesn’t haunt me with many memories that we made there. The only places we ever went out together were the park, Starbucks, and The Corner Bakery on our auction date. Other than that, I can go to the grocery store or the gym and not be bombarded with flashes of our time spent together in that vicinity.

Instead, it’s my condo that haunts me most—and even Hyatt Lake is tainted now—which is usually where I would go when I needed some distance from my job and my life, or just a much-needed weekend of relaxation. Instead, I see images of her in my bed, her dark hair fanned out over the pillow, or her naked body pressed up against mine in my shower. I see her legs spread wide on my kitchen counter or her gorgeous face resting on my lap on my couch. My home, which used to be my place of solitude, is now the last place I want to be. I even picked up a few extra shifts this week to avoid time alone in my condo.

“God, why are women so complicated?” I ask out loud as I arrive home and throw my gym bag on the floor by the door. Roark barks at my appearance, rising from his bed in the corner to greet me.

“We don’t need women, huh, buddy? All we need is each other,” I say as I scratch his neck in the spot that makes his head twist around. Roark whimpers as I release him and then I head for the shower.

Once I’m clean and dressed in uniform, I travel to the station to report for my shift. Luckily, Cash and I are on different duties today—he’s on rural patrol, I’m on traffic—so at least I don’t have to be near him all day. We’re men, so naturally we won’t be pissed at each other for very long, but the thought of seeing him right now still makes me want to punch him.

“Walsh, you look like you’re in agreatmood today. Lucky me to be blessed with your company,” Luke comes up beside me, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“Yup, just peachy. You on traffic today too?” I ask, desperate to change the subject. The last thing I want to do is discuss my feelings again this morning.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” his eyes find the floor and I know exactly where his mind is at right now—back on Hannah.

“Well, did you ask Captain to switch your duty? I’m sure he’d understand.”

“Nah. I’ve gotta face it sometime, you know? It just isn’t easy,” he shakes his head and I can only imagine the images that flow through his mind every time we respond to an accident.

---