Page 29 of Don't Say You're Sorry

Easton glares at her.

She catches the look, throwing her hands up. “What? They are.”

“What’s The Hideaway?” I ask, bouncing my gaze between the two of them.

Easton opens his mouth, but Frankie beats him to it. “Our favorite gay club,” she says with a grin, wiggling her brows at him as she speaks to me. “Your boy and I havea lotof fun there. Ain’t that right, E?”

Now it’s my turn to glare at the bitch.

“Frankie,” Easton warns, though there’s no real malice in his tone. “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not,” she says defensively, taking a pen out of her bag and grabbing my hand, startling me. Her eyes meet mine, and I nod, unsure what else to do. She writes a phone number and a name on my hand—Mick. To Easton, she says, “If he can’t handle hearing about what happened here after he left you, he’s free to walk his ass out the door. I’m not tiptoeing around him. He made his bed.”

The muscle in my jaw tics as she takes her coffee to go and walksherass out the door. I glance at my hand, running mythumb beneath the black ink there as her words resonate with me.

She’s not wrong.

“Did you fuck her?”

“No,” Easton says with a sigh. “Almost, but…no. We like to share though.”

That doesn’t make me feel any better. At all.

I glare at the front door she just walked through, hoping the force of my anger will surge into her and make her fall flat on her ass. “I hate her.”

Easton lets out a laugh, standing to load his empty bowl into the dishwasher. I grind my teeth, pushing my half-eaten bowl of Lucky Charms away.

“You look cute when you pout,” he says from behind me. He can’t even see me. There’s no way he can tell whatever look is on my face right now.

“I’m not pouting.”

“You look cute when you’re jealous too.” He comes up behind me, his body heat searing into my back as he places one hand on the counter next to me, the other in my hair.

“Don’t,” I rasp, shivering at his touch and the way his nails scrape across my scalp. “Please, don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Go out of your way to make me jealous.” I arch back, leaning my head on his chest to look at him. “I know I have no right, but…I can’t play that game with you. Not yet.”Not ever.

“Then why are you here?”

Because I want you all to myself.

My eyes slam shut as the thought comes unbidden.God fucking damn it.

“I want to be your friend again,” I breathe the words like a mantra, reminding myself why I’m here—why I’msupposedto be here.

“Who do you think you’re talking to, baby?” Tightening his grip on my hair, he yanks my head back, his mouth teasing my ear. “I thought you didn’t lie to me.”

I groan through my teeth. “I hate you.”

He chuckles and moves closer, his lips hovering over mine, so close I can fucking taste him. “That’s another lie.”

I nod. “Kiss me.”

He grins wickedly, straightening up and shoving my head away. I scrunch my face and drop it into my hands, roughly running my fingers through my hair in an attempt to stop the chills racking through me from my scalp to my damn toes.

“If you call that number…” He trails off, tipping his chin at my hand as he grabs his backpack. I think there’s a threat on the tip of his tongue, but what comes out is, “You’ve got a good chance at winning that game you don’t wanna play with me.”

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