Page 55 of Craving Consequences

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EVERLY

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I’m not ready.

It’s a ridiculous statement given I would eventually have to face the consequences of my actions, but I had hoped I would at least get a day. A few hours to mentally prepare myself. I don’t even have an excuse that doesn’t sound stupid and childish because without the haze of betrayal and vodka, I realize what a mistake I’ve made. An irreparable one that I don’t know how to fix with words.

Still, there is no avoiding him when he’s standing in my driveway with his hands in his pockets. His gaze pins me as I climb awkwardly out of the car. It’s like standing in the sun and realizing too late you’re already burning.

Even in a basic black T-shirt and dark jeans, Lachlan is imposing, a threat on legs and I am weak for this man in ways I don’t even know how I’m going to survive.

“Good morning, Mr. Shaw,” I murmur, struggling to meet those deep velvet brown pools and failing when all I can think about is how they’d been dark pits the night before as he came inside me.

His gaze roams over me and I feel every inch he touches as acutely as if he’d stuck me with a lit match. “How are you feeling?”

Mortified.

Lonely.

Sad.

All things I can’t express without sounding even more pathetic. But I’m saved from having to lie to him when the passenger side door on the truck opens and a second figure emerges.

Van.

He must have been on his phone. The device is tiny in his large fist as it’s stuffed into his pocket and he joins his friend blocking my escape.

Deep down, I know why they’re here. I get they’re trying to do the right thing and make sure I’m okay, but I want them to forget. I want them to stop looking at me like I stole something vital from them. It’s an aching longing I wish I didn’t understand.

“Good morning, Mr. Weaver,” I whisper, trying my best to act normal when every cell in my body wants to run straight into their arms and beg them to take me home and back to bed.

“You left,” Van accuses, hot and disgruntled, mirroring the deep crease between his eyes.

Heat rises up my neck to fill my face hotter than the boiling temperature already melting the asphalt beneath my flats.

“I thought it would be for the best,” I lie, dropping my gaze to their scuffed and scarred boots. “Last night...”

“How much do you remember?” Lachlan presses when I can’t voice my shame.

I smooth back a rogue lock of hair caught in the sticky breeze. Anything to distract my trembling fingers.

“Almost everything.” I dare a peek up at them and don’t miss the rise and fall of Lachlan’s chest like he’d been holding his breath.

Van is still frowning. A hard set of lines that pinch his lips together and have his arms folding over his chest.

“I had to,” I blurt. “Leave.” I pause to dampen my lips. “Last night never should have happened. I never should have dragged you into my mess. I’m so sorry.”

“It was reckless,” Lachlan agrees. “You could have been seriously hurt getting drunk in a place like that. What were you thinking?”

I wince at his reproach. “It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t,” he bites out. “You do anything that stupid again and I’ll...”

He trails off, but now I’m curious, and desperate to lighten the mood.

“Put me over your knee?” I tease and immediately regret it when his features harden to match the coiling tension in hisshoulders. I grimace even as I lift a hand to cover my scorching face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

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