Page 90 of Clashing
“Why are you being so defensive? I’m trying to understand.”
“No, you’re not. You’re not trying to understand. Just like that night. You jump to conclusions. Don’t tell me you think I’m a good guy when you got pissed at me before you gave me a chance to explain.”
“Here’s your chance.” She stopped in front of me, blocking my path. “Tell me the truth. Tell me what happened.”
“It doesn’t fucking matter anymore, does it?” My laugh held no humor. She had someone better and the fact she was pushing me when I couldn’t have her pissed me off. “You have pretty boy Collin now, who brings you flowers and does everything a perfect boyfriend should, right?”
“Stop being such an asshole,” she hissed. “Why do you always do this? Why can’t you talk to me?”
“You’re not mine to talk to, Scarlett,” I growled, clenching my fists.
“Whose fault is that? You didn’t want me!”
“Yes, I did!” I snapped. “You don’t know what happened that night. You never let me tell you. You want to know why I left with Nat? Her husband slapped her around, and she needed a friend.Nothinghappened. I wasn’t at the bar for her. I was at the bar foryou. Waiting for you to come home to talk to you and tell you I—” I sucked in a breath and shook my head. I couldn’t do this with her. I’d keep hurting her. We’d continue this awful fucking cycle of fighting. “Stop fucking saying I don’t want you, Scarlett. I’m sick of hearing it. Like anyone in their right mind wouldn’t want you.” I squeezed past her. “Being friends isn’t an option. We can be cordial, but I can’t do anything else. Leave it alone.”
That finally shut her up. Never in my life had I needed someone so badly. Needed, and couldn’t have. I bolted outside and cursed myself for losing my cool. Only she burrowed under my skin like that.
My fucking kryptonite.
Chapter twenty-eight
Fourth of July
Scarlett
IthoughtIwasdoingwell. I thought my attraction to Ryker had faded. Until he backed me against that wall, close enough to kiss, to touch . . .
I wanted him as badly as before.
But of course, we fought. A small, fucked-up part of me liked fighting with him. It made me feel alive. It made us passionate. It made me believe we could get through anything because we weren’t afraid to be our worst selves.
This fight was different. At first, I was pissed at him for losing it like that, for closing off and getting angry instead of talking to me, but another emotion lurked beneath the armor of anger.
I’d hurt him. I’d hurt him and hadn’t considered the ways my actions affected him. He had such a stoic exterior. So rough around the edges. I sometimes forgot he had soft spots.
I shouldn’t. He’d shown me more than once. Our first night together. When I was on my period. When he went with me to sell my speaker. When Dan fell. When I freaked out again. When he encouraged me to get help. More than anyone, I should know he had soft spots.I guess I didn’t think he had one for me.
He told me he had no feelings, yet that fight wasn’t all anger. He was hurt that I’d assumed the worst and didn’t let him explain. For that, remorse plagued my every waking thought.
I wanted to chase after him but my heart split. I was with Collin. Not officially, but I liked Collin. Had the timing been different, he would’ve been perfect for me.
Now I was confused. Although Ryker and I could barely have a conversation without fighting, he invigorated me. Challenged me.Knewme. Would the same thing happen with Collin if I let it? Maybe I’d feel as much for Collin as I did with Ryker if I gave it time.
I don’t believe that.
Ryker was different, and I didn’t want to string Collin around. He deserved better.
Fourth of July, I plastered on a fake smile and helped Dan get the grill ready, along with the refreshments spread—chips and dips, beer, veggie and fruit platters, a huge bowl of Dan’s famous macaroni and cheese, and corn on the cob. The regulars showed up with some of Dan’s other friends. All people I was comfortable around. People I could laugh with.
Laughing was the last thing I felt like doing. My mind kept returning to Ryker. Was it because of me he didn’t come, or did he really hate the holiday?
Music boomed over the fireworks exploding in the distance. A few guys struggled with the sound thanks to PTSD, but the loud music and company kept them grounded. I sat alone on the porch steps, watching them play horseshoes, throw tomahawks, eat, and laugh. Normally, I’d love this, but guilt ate at my stomach. For jumping to conclusions. For thinking about another man when a perfectly good one wanted me.
Dammit.No matter what I felt about Ryker, no matter how confusing, I owed him an apology. I’d been unfair. He was being a dick too and I wouldn’t let him get away with that. We had a habit of setting each other off instead of talking through things rationally. Neither of us seemed to be good at calm but one of ushadto be the adult. I hated that he said we couldn’t be friends. I didn’t want to lose him all the way.
Packing a plate of food might not have been a fully conscious decision, but I did it. With Dan distracted by his friends, it was easy to sneak out. Not until my truck engine rumbled to life did I realize I’d never driven to Ryker’s house before.I think I know the way.
Nervous butterflies kept my stomach unsteady, and my heart beat out of rhythm. By the time I found his dark road, my palms were sweaty. My leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. The brief relief of finding the right street offered only a second of reprieve from my vibrating nerves.
