Page 110 of Trustfall

“No problem,” he says. “But I always cash in on favors.”

“Oh yeah, sure. Anything I can do. I’m happy to pay you back?—”

“Not from you,” he interrupts, looking me up and down. “I mean, no offense. You’re just not my type.”

“None taken,” I say slowly as I glance over at Marco, who is now wearing a shit-eating grin.

“Keep smiling, punk,” Ryan says. “I can’t wait to wipe it off your smug little face later.”

I look between Marco and Ryan, and…yep, I’m definitely getting third-wheel vibes right now. Ryan finishes the wrap, and I grab my wallet, handing him my credit card so he can run it. He walks up to the front to check me out, and I hop off the stool.

“Sorry if I got you in trouble,” I say apologetically.

“No sweat, man,” Marco says as he pulls his legs in closer to the chair. “He’s just grumpy because it’s his day off. We were gonna hike up to Drake Falls.”

Drake Falls.Just two words and my stomach plummets to the floor. My hike with Emory up to the falls was easily one of the best days of my life. Maybethebest day of my life. But right now, the memory of that day makes my chest tighten and my eyes sting.

“Seriously, no worries,” Marco rushes out, probably assuming the look of anguish on my face is because I feel bad for dragging Ryan into work on his day off. “The sex is so much hotter when he’s grumpy,” he adds.

I choke out a laugh. “I bet, dude,” I say, faking a lightheartedness I don’t feel. “Angry sex is the best.”

It’s not. Not for me, anyway. Sure, I love working Emory up and making her crazy only to pull back at the last second, but there’s no anger when we fuck. It’s frenzied, raw, passionate, but never angry.

Marco gives me an easy smile, stands up, and claps me on the back. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here so you can show your girl your new tat. She’s gonna fucking love it.”

Okay, so I maybe didn’t mention to Marco or Ryan that the girl who I got this tattoo for isn’t on speaking terms with me right now. But they were doing me a favor, and I didn’t want to come off like a complete psycho. Is it a little unhinged to get a tattoo for a woman who walked out on you a day ago? Maybe. I just don’t give a shit.

Ryan returns my credit card and goes over aftercare instructions even though he must realize I’m fully aware of how to take care of a tattoo. I bump both their fists, and I thank them again before I head out of the shop toward my bike. My dad included the truck in the sale of his business, so now I only have my bike to get me around. I should probably think about buying a car, but that’s really low on my priority list.

I fastenmy helmet and hop on, tearing off onto the main street. As I ride, I let the wind and adrenaline take over, pushing the thoughts and memories of her to the back of my head where I don’t have to deal with them. Just for five minutes, I tell myself. I need to give myself this short reprieve. Just until I get home. Then I’ll let them back in.

But as soon as I turn onto my street, I see a faint silhouette against the backdrop of my front porch. From far away, it looks like a child sitting on the top step, but as I get closer, I see that it’s a woman. Not just any woman.

My fucking woman.

Emory stands as soon as I pull into the driveway. I hike my leg over, throw my helmet off, and rush up the front steps, but when I get to her, I freeze. I don’t want to come on too strong or scare her off, so I just stand there breathing erratically, as my heart pounds out of my chest.

She’s breathing fast too, but she doesn’t say anything. Our eyes lock for a second. Two seconds. And then it all happens so fast. She reaches for me, and I don’t think twice as I throw my arms around her and back her up against the wall of the house. I crash my lips to hers, coaxing them open. It’s not soft or gentle. It’s frenzied, urgent—a mess of tongues and teeth and roaming hands. I kiss her hard and deep. I kiss her like I’m suffocating and she’s my last fucking breath.

Suddenly, she puts her hands on my chest and shoves me, not hard, but enough to let me know she wants me to stop. I rip myself away from her and search her eyes. For a clue. A hint. Anything that will tell me that she’s forgiven me. But her eyes snap down to the ground.

Fuck.

“Baby—”

“Let me just get this out first,” she whimpers, and her eyes look like they always do right before she’s about to cry. Fuck, she’s breaking up with me for good. That wasn’t a make up kiss. It was goodbye.

“I’m not going to let myself be distracted by your stupid muscles, your dumb tattoos, and that tongue…”

I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or herself, but I nod. I’ll listen to whatever she has to say. I would listen to her recite the dictionary if she wanted me to, but I don’t think I can look her in the eye when she does it, so I look down at my boots instead.

“I’m only going to say this one more time, Luke Collins. Don’t break my fucking heart.”

I glance up. “What?”

“I mean it. If we’re going to do this, like really do this, we have to be equals. You can’t cut me out. Especially when it involves my life and my past. That’s my red, Luke. You have to keep me in the loop and let me fight my own battles and?—”

I promptly cut her off, grabbing her by the hips and hauling her up to me. She squeals in surprise. “Baby, I’ll do anything for you. I told you that. Any. Fucking. Thing.”

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