Page 90 of No Romeo
I almost wished he wasn’t. I fought the part of me that desperately wanted us to be okay again, that needed us to be.
“I never told you thank you for saving this.” His fingers plucked over the strings, the tattoos and ratty bracelets shifting with each delicate stroke.
I dropped to the edge of the mattress. The tune flooding my mind with a hundred memories. Every kiss, every touch, every sweet word. Nights in the treehouse, in this room… We’d spent our entire lives together. How was a person supposed to really let that go?
His soft gaze met mine. “It means a lot.”
How did I get over that? Over him?
“Youmean a lot,” I breathed, a quiet confession. One I shouldn’t have made.
His dark brows creased before the music cut off, and a ragged sigh left his lips. Silence fell between us, one where I felt every jolting beat in my chest.Hendrix tapped over the wood of his guitar.
“Then give me some fucking answers, Lola. Please.”
I couldn’t, but I had to give him something because we couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t be friends, couldn’t be nothing, couldn’t justbewhile we were in each other’s lives… But if there was one thing I knew, it was that I needed Hendrix in my life. That I owed him some kind of peace.
“I can try.” Half-truths and omissions.
“Did I do something to make you unhappy? Is that why you did it?”
That was what he thought…
“No, Hendrix.” Tears stung my eyes. I never thought he would blame himself, and it made me hate myself a little more. “You’re perfect. You’ve always made me happy.” He still did.
“I just need a reason why you did it.”
I swiped at my tears, trying to think of something, anything I could tell him that would straddle the line of truth and lie.
“I have regretted that moment every second of every day for two years, Hendrix. Maybe it was stupidity. Or naivety…” I was stupid for letting Johan through the front door. Naïve in thinking a man who paid for sex would have any boundaries about who he got it from so long as there was cash involved.
“Just know, I’m sorry,” I whispered, fighting the anger and hatred that rose up at the injustice of it all. I’d done nothing wrong. He’d done nothing wrong. Yet, we were the ones paying the price. “That no one has ever loved anyone more…” Than I still loved him. But I couldn’t tell him that. It wasn’t fair.
His fingers swept over the strings. “When Jessica told me you were pregnant…” Another solemn note. “I took this down to the pawn shop and traded it for a ring.”
His gaze lifted to mine. And God, did it hurt. That guitar was the only thing he had, and then I’d told him that the baby wasn’t his. I had lied and said I’d cheated on him, as though he meant nothing.
“You giving it back to me was just…” He swallowed. “It fucking hurt.”
Tears tracked down my cheeks. I was so close to blurting the truth, just to put Hendrix out of his misery. I’d have done anything to keep him out of jail, but seeing him like this, hearing this, felt akin to a slow, painful death. One that was killing us both.
“Hendrix…” My chest burned, and ugly sobs threatened to break free. The tears wouldn’t stop. The pain wouldn’t stop. The guilt would–not–stop. I threw my arms around his neck, unsure whether I was trying to console him or myself. “I’m so sorry.”
He shifted the guitar out of his lap and wrapped his arms around me tight, comforting me, holding me together when I didn’t deserve it.
Seconds passed, moments where he held me so close while I pretended everything could be fixed.
“I don’t like us like this.” He pulled back, cupping my face in his hands while his thumbs swiped at my tears. “I actually really fucking hate it,” he whispered.
The broken, confused look on his face was almost too much to take.
Sucking in a shuddering breath, I wrapped my fingers around his wrists. “Me too.”
“Me three, you sick fucks.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Zepp, lingering in the open doorway, an unamused look on his face.
His attention shifted to Hendrix. “You still coming to Wolf’s or what?”
