Page 85 of Crazy Pucking Love
“I don’t know. Did you?”
Hudson put his hands on her shoulders and massaged them. “Relax, baby.”
Whitney shot him a look and then he raised his hands in surrender. So much for having my back.
I looked to him, not wanting to hear whatever it was from Whitney, with the added anger I probably deserved, although I had no recollection of why. “What happened?”
“Misty claimed you were only going to help her find her car keys—that she thought she might’ve dropped them in the parking lot,” Whitney said, apparently not caring that I’d clearly asked Hudson. “But since you could hardly walk, it seemed like a poor excuse. Me, I would’ve recruited someone who wasn’t seeing double.”
Ox came around the corner and eyed the scene. “Are we hitting the gym, or what?”
I searched my memory, trying to find what Whitney claimed had happened among its contents. “The last I remember, I was blowing her off.” A sick sensation tugged at my stomach. “I didn’t… You don’t think I did anything more than shots with her, do you?”
Whitney crossed her arms. “That’s what I’m asking you. Megan’s a sweet girl. I was worried that you two were a bad idea, but you seemed better, and despite your tendency to sometimes say dumb things, you know I like you. But if you hurt her—”
Hudson cut in. “What Whitney’s trying to say is—”
“Whitneyknowswhat she’s trying to say. She doesn’t need help.”
Great. Now they were fighting over how much of an asshole I was.
“He didn’t kiss her,” Ryder said. “She asked him to leave with her and he told her no. Then she made a big show of trying to find her keys, and asked him to help her find them. I was going to help, but I got sidetracked, and the next thing I saw was you guys talking to him near the door, so I figured you were going to help.”
Cool relief flooded my veins, but the knowledge that I could’ve done something awful and not even remembered came fast on its heels, taking away the side of me that wanted to congratulate myself. For all my talk about self-control and being a better person, I’d gotten so wasted I couldn’t even remember the end of the night. I was right back to where I was all those months ago. Up to my neck in drama, being a selfish jerk, all my goals forgotten.
Whitney made a noise of disgust in the back of her throat. “Misty didn’t lose her keys. She claimed she miraculously found them once I showed up. What she wanted was to get you alone, and you almost went.”
“Dane’s a sucker for a damsel in distress,” Hudson said. “He can’t help but help.”
“Well, I don’t trust Misty to keep her hands to herself, so next time, just tell her to find someone who doesn’t have a girlfriend—or an amazing person you care about who cares about you, since you keep getting hung up on the word girlfriend.”
“You would understand why if you met his last girlfriend,” Hudson said.
“Bro.” Now that memory rose up, of the phone call from my sister telling me my ex-girlfriend nearly died last night, because she’d finally spiraled out of control. And that spiral started when I let her down. As if I couldn’t hate myself any more, another wave of self-loathing slammed into me.
Hudson shrugged. “What? It’s the truth. Now, I vote we stop grilling Dane and go to breakfast.”
“We’re going to the gym,” Ox said, patting his bag as if it were all the proof he’d need.
I didn’t want to play this back and forth game anymore. “For the record, no one would feel worse than me if I screwed up things with Megan. And we all know I probably will.”
I waited for someone to deny it.
Just as I was about to say “Fuck all ya’ll,” and go back to bed, Whitney stepped forward.
“I’m sorry. I just really like Megan. Can’t you see how much she cares about you? Either go all-in or let her go, Dane. That’s all I’m saying.”
Panic rose, and I wasn’t sure if it was more for going all-in and it still not being good enough, or the thought of letting her go.
…
Fuck, fuck, fuck, with a side of fuck.
I ran my fingers across the top of the sugar and sweetener packets, thinking of my first night here with Megan, and then I wished I’d picked a different location.
While I was wishing for shit, I also didn’t want to do this.
Over the past few days I realized two major things. I wanted Megan to be my girlfriend. I wanted her to know I’d be there for her, whatever she needed, not make her feel like it was conditional, or that I’d bolt at the soonest sign of intimacy.
