Page 55 of Wicked Temptations
“Hit a nerve, did I?” He took a step forward and I fought the urge to back up. “That’s what this is really about. You want me to hate you so you can prove to yourself that nobody actually gives a shit. So you can keep telling yourself that being alone is safer.”
“I said shut the fuck up.” My voice cracked on the last word.
He stared at me, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows furrowed. The hurt on his face was so clear it made something twist in my gut. It wasn’t meant to hurt now. Not already. “Right. Because god forbid anything actually matter to you.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Like I give a shit?” He moved to the door. “But it’s fine, Jude. I give up. Go back to never getting attached. Never giving a shit. Let your past fuck up your future. I’m done trying.”
“Fuck you.”
“Yeah.” He yanked the door open. “That’s about all we’re good for, isn’t it?”
He walked out, the door swinging shut behind him.
***
I drove home in silence.
The city slid past my windows in streaks of neon and shadow. Traffic lights bled red into the rain on my windshield. I gripped the steering wheel hard enough to make my knuckles ache, jaw clenched so tight I could feel the tension radiating up into my temples.
The words Ash had thrown at me kept playing on repeat.
Coward. Terrified. Damaged.
My apartment building loomed ahead, concrete and brick stained dark with moisture. I parked in my usual spot and killed the engine. Sat there in the quiet for a moment, listening to the tick of cooling metal and the drum of rain on the roof.
I should’ve felt better. I’d pushed him away. Protected myself. Done what I always did when someone risked getting too close.
So why did my chest feel like it was caving in?
I climbed the stairs to my third-floor unit, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. The apartment was dark except for the ambient glow from the streetlamps filtering through the blinds.I didn’t bother turning on the lights, just closed the door behind me and leaned back against the wood.
I stood there in the entryway, jacket dripping rain onto the floor, and something hot and jagged rose in my throat.
You’re so fucking terrified of getting hurt that you’d rather push everyone away first.
My hands curled into fists.
He didn’t know what he was talking about. He didn’t know me. Didn’t know what it was like to need someone so badly it felt like drowning, only to watch them walk away the second you became too much work.
I yanked off my jacket and threw it at the couch. It missed, crumpling onto the floor in a wet heap.
Just another warm body and a hard dick.
The lie burned through me now, corrosive and vicious. I’d seen his face when I said it. Watched the light drain from his eyes like I’d gutted him.
Good. That was what I wanted.
Wasn’t it?
I paced to the kitchen, back to the living room, and then back again, unable to stand still. Energy crawled under my skin, restless and angry and wrong.
It wasn’t supposed to hurt like this.
I’d pushed people away before. Plenty of times. That was how I survived. How I kept myself intact when everyone else kept trying to crack me open and see what was inside.
But those other times hadn’t felt like this.
