Page 16 of Sweet Hate
Surreptitiously scanning the diner, I guide Mom to our favorite circle booth, but—thank fuck—the coast is Hurricane free.
Relief courses through me, when I release a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I still don’t know why she’s back in town or how long she’s staying for. But I’m not sure how much longer I can live with this constant obsession. For over a decade, I’ve had her filed away in a box—one clearly labeled DO NOT TOUCH—living in the recesses of my mind. Now, I’veunleashed Pandora’s Box, and I can’t decide if I want to fight or fuck her.
Maybe both.
Studying the menu intently, careful to avoid the wordlasagna, when Mom’s gasp has me jerking up, almost tossing the damn thing across the table.
“Oh my stars! Haven Blake, is that you?”
Well, shit.
Pretty sure this makes me an official storm chaser—three hurricanes within a week
“Come over here, sweetheart, let me see you.”
Inwardly groaning, I rake my hand through my hair.Yes mother, please, go ahead and invite the Category Five back into our lives.
Haven wanders over, her eyes meeting mine before quickly sliding away. I’m not noticing how good her butt looks in those jeans, or how low cut her top is, or how fuckable her tits look in it. I’m definitely not noticing her cheeks, tinged a cute shade of pink just like they were after we?—
No.
Not going there.
Jesus fuck. This woman is annihilating my sanity.
Ignoring everything around me, I study the menu like it’sWar and Peacewhile simultaneously trying to hold my breath. Clearly, I’m failing since her vanilla caramel scent is everywhere, assaulting my senses in the best and worst way.
She always smelled good enough to eat.
And I fucking did.
I can’t resist taking a quick glance over the top of the menu to study her. Her pink locks are swept up in a bun, leaving the crook of her creamy neck exposed. I used to love biting that spot, breathing her in for hours.
Idiot.
I slouch so far down on the bench, my ass will likely hit thefloor any second. But I can’t ignore the problem in front of me for very long as my mom’s sharp elbow hits me square in the ribs.
“Axel! Axel, look who’s back in town!”
No shit Mother. I can’t seem to avoid her anywhere. Not even in my dreams these days.
“Yes, I’m aware. We should order. I’m starving.” Not to mention, the sooner we order, the sooner we eat, and then we can get out of here.
Mom’s knee knocks into mine under the table, but I shift out of the danger zone and continue to ignore it all. I should have known my mom wasn’t going to let this go.
“Yes, I’m starved too. Haven, sit. Join us for lunch. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you and I’d love to hear all about your time in London. When did you get back?”
Hell no. That can’t happen. I don’t want to hear all about her playing house with that city boy she moved in with.
Last time, no matter how much I tried to avoid any mention of her, I overheard Mia telling Lucas that little tidbit, and I drowned myself in Jack Daniels for a week. Even that wasn’t enough to wipe it—or her—from my memory.
“Nope. She’s busy,” I grind out. It sounds a lot gruffer than I intended, earning me a sharp slap to the back of my head.
The booth was a bad choice on my part.
“Axel Verona, what on earth has gotten into you? First you show up late, and now you act like a pea-brained man child. I taught you more manners than this.”
Haven's lips kick up in a half smile, which annoys me even more.
