Page 25 of Stick Fight

Shit.

Blinking into the still-dark room, I push the covers back and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The shades are drawn, and I work to focus my eyes as I jump to my feet, a strange desperation about me.

“Ah fuck.” Pain spikes through my baby toe. Right. That’s when I remember stubbing it last night. Just before the hiccups. Hiccups that led me to Gabby’s bed.

Gabby.

My heart stammers. If she has regrets this morning, I’ll never forgive myself. My stomach clenches hard. Did she slip out under the cover of darkness? Did the last words we spoke before falling asleep scare her back into her fiancé’s arms?

Maybe that’s for the best, Roman.

Even as the thought races around my mind, I know it’s complete bullshit. She deserves more. Better. A man who will worship her, who will cherish her, who will show her every single day just how important she is. Not some cheating bastard who screws around the night before their wedding.

Bastard.

I yank on my boxers, scrubbing a hand over my face as I search for my phone. My heart sinks. Damn it. I don’t have Gabby’s number. I can’t check in. Can’t see if she’s okay.

Can’t see if she needs me.

Then I hear it. A soft noise from the other room. A quiet rustle. Relief floods me so fast my knees nearly buckle. She’s still here. Jesus, the fact that I’m so goddamn happy about that should scare the hell out of me—but it doesn’t—and I don’t know why. The only thing I do know is that I wasn’t fucking kidding when I asked her to come home with me.

Her answer had been a soft, satisfied moan before her eyes fluttered closed, sleep dragging her under. The chaos of the night—alcohol, sex, the emotional turmoil—had all taken its toll. But now all I can think about is those words I whispered to her afterward. Did she hear them? If she did, did she believe me?

Three long strides carry me into the living room, and I freeze. Gabby is bent over the coffee table, wearing nothing but my T-shirt. The hem skims high on her thighs, exposing too much smooth skin, and my heart punches hard against my ribs as my dick thickens, twitching at the memory of her mouth on me last night, of how she took me so deep I forgot how to breathe.

We didn’t fuck. But what we did do…God, it felt far more intimate than anything I’ve ever known. Dammit, I want her again.

I’m about to cross the room, to pull her against me, but stop when I notice what’s in front of her.

Her wedding dress.

Spread out across the coffee table, and she’s smoothing her fingers over the fabric, like she’s…preparing it.

For what?

My chest tightens.

Fuck.

“Gabs,”I say quietly, trying to steady myself. Is she really choosing to go back to that asshole? I mean, it’s her choice, right? I don’t have a say.

Yeah, fuck that.

She turns quickly, and the smile that breaks across her face loosens the tight knot in my chest.“Morning,”she says, her voice soft and sleepy. My gaze drops, to the scissors in her hand.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Instead of answering—why isn’t she answering—she drops the scissors, and walks to the coffee pot to pour me a mug.“You look like you could use this.”

“Thanks.” I run fingers through my hair, still groggy as she comes back to me and presses the mug into my hand. Our fingers brush and a jolt of heat rips through me. If she’s feeling that too, she can’t go back to that asshole, right? Then again, my parents hate each other, but stay together for political reasons. Jesus, I hate fakery.

Everyone has their reasons for doing what they do, Roman.

Which means, it’s her life, not mine, and I don’t have a right to interfere.

My eyes drift back to the wedding dress, and my stomach tightens. “What are you doing to your dress?”My voice sounds too casual—like we didn’t just share something explosive, something I can’t quite wrap my head around. But I push that down.

Here’s the thing. Gabby deserves to walk down the aisle, to have a family of her own, and even if I did convince her to come home with me, I can’t give her the happily ever after she deserves. But that sure as hell doesn’t mean I want her with that cheating prick.

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