Page 6 of Push

“You’re always finding excuses to touch me. You’re always bumping into me.”

“The treatment room is cramped! I’m not always looking where I’m going! It’s—shit. Kay, I’mmarried.”

“Happily?”

I glared at her. “Yes.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” she sang with a giggle. “And when was the last time your wife took care ofyou?”She inched closer. “Worried aboutyou?Does she even notice how hard you work?”

“Ye-yeah.”

“Is that why she makes you sleep on the couch?”

Blood pounded in my ears. Kayleigh was too close. And it wasn’t just the way her body melted against mine. It was her words, too. Had I been stupid enough to complain out loud? Had I slipped up and let the world hear I did nothing right anymore? That I slept more nights on the couch than in bed with my wife because she couldn’t stand the sight of me?

“When was the last time she kissed you?” Kayleigh whispered.“Reallykissed you so you felt like you were the only person in the world that mattered?”

I tried to swallow, but a noose wrapped around my throat.

When had I last mattered to Gwen?

Not for a long time. Not since before Noah was born.

One day, she’d walked out the door, dressed to the nines, her adorable baby bump barely visible, ready for another day of sending bad guys to jail. That night, she’d walked in holding a cardboard box loaded with the trinkets from her desk, her eyes glassy, and nothing but a three-word explanation.

“He fired me.”

Gwen hadn’t been the same after that. She clocked out of our relationship. I never understood why, and even though I badgered her for answers and promised we’d fight to get her job back, whatever happened that day changed her forever.

The noose tightened around my throat.

I missed Gwen so much. Holding her. Hearing her whisper, “I love you,” when I was deep inside her. She was the only person who saw me as more than the jackass who made everyone laugh. She used to treat me like I was her hero. Not anymore.

Kayleigh’s arm slipped around my back, her fingernails digging into my skin through my shirt. She whispered in my ear, “I’ll make you feel like you matter.”

My pulse hammered. “Will you…?” My voice was thick. It didn’t sound like me.

“Ineveryway.”

It was an invitation for more, and I took it. I ignored every ounce of sense to chase the forgotten feeling of warm and willing lips.

I palmed Kayleigh’s hip. When her breath hitched, a possessive look flashing up at me, I liked it. And when her fingers slid into my hair, her mouth drifting up my neck and along my jaw, I didn’t tell her to stop.

“I’ve dreamed about this,” she whispered.

My nose grazed her cheek, and an old, broken part of me woke up and demanded more.

So, I kissed her.

And I didn’t stop.

I let myself feel it—enjoy it—because I convinced myself Ineededit.

But the bitter taste of that desperate kiss burned my throat like acid. Nothing about kissing Kayleigh felt right. Her sloppy mouth all over mine was the last thing I needed.

I neededGwen.

The walls of Kayleigh’s apartment crushed me. I needed space to breathe. The shove that forced her off me wasn’t gentle. “I shouldn’t—we shouldn’t—that was—” I forced air into my lungs.

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