Page 91 of Take A Number
“I wanted you.” Her voice cracks and breaks my heart into a million tiny pieces as her eyes turn red around the edges.
My voice is hollow and emotionless when I reply flatly, “I’m not good for you.”
She steps toward me, her lips trembling, lips I’ve kissed countless times, lips I want to kiss again as she asks, “Why do you think you’re not good for me?”
“Because I’ll hurt you.” I force myself to look her in the eyes, and it’s painful. Like looking at the fucking sun.
She draws in a long breath through her nose. “Why will you hurt me?”
The muscle in my jaw tics incessantly as I swallow the knot in my throat, unwilling to utter the dark truths I know about myself. It’s better she doesn’t know. It’s better she forgets about me and thinks of me as an asshole for the rest of her life. It’ll be easier for both of us.
When she realizes I’m not going to answer, she rubs her lips together and takes a step toward the bar door. “I’m going back inside with Nate because at least he can apologize and mean it.”
She turns to walk away, and my voice is guttural when I whisper, “I do mean it.”
“Dean! Are you in there? Dean!” A loud pounding on my front door causes the ringing in my head to start again.
“Dean, open up!” More pounding…and maybe some kicking.
“I have a spare key, one second.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head as my two best friends have a conversation in front of my house about who deserves my spare key, and why don’t they both have spare keys, and whoever lives the closest should have the spare key because of emergencies, and since Kate spends all her time at Tire Depot, she thinks she’s considered closer even though she doesn’t live at Tire Depot, and by the time they get my front door open and step into my living room, I’m wishing I had a chain on my door.
“What the hell?” Kate exclaims, finding me flopped in one of my beanbag chairs in the living room. “He’s alive.”
Lynsey follows Kate and blinks back her shock. “We thought you were dead.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Why do you two go to death? You’re so dramatic.”
“Because I haven’t heard from you since Kate’s wedding,” Lynsey says, her voice rising in in pitch. “One second, we’re doing the Macarena, and then next, you and Norah take off and you ghost me for six straight days. Why haven’t you answered my texts?”
“Haven’t felt like talking.” I shrug and squint up at Kate. “Aren’t you supposed to be on your honeymoon?”
She rolls her eyes. “We’re waiting until it’s cold as balls for a honeymoon, remember? I told you we’re doing Hawaii in February.”
“Oh yeah.”
Kate’s eyes lower to the floor beside me. “What is that?”
I make a move to shove the evidence behind me, having forgotten it was there, but Kate’s quick like a fucking ninja. She grabs the two boxes off the floor and shows them to Lynsey, who gasps like she’s on a telenovela.
“Are those…gas station donuts?” Lynsey screeches like she’s just found heroin.
“So what if they are?” I groan, pulling my glasses off and rubbing my eyes. It’s way too early in the morning for a dose of these two.
“Dean!” they both peal in unison.
Lynsey flops into the empty chair beside me and touches my arm. “Did you and Norah break up?”
I jerk my head back and blink at her. “What makes you assume that?”
Kate kicks my beanbag and answers for her. “Because you’re mowing down shitty donuts like a fucking caged animal when Norah makes the couture of pastries. Jesus. Tire Depot serves better stuff than this.”
“What happened?” Lynsey asks with a gentle tone that is way too motherly.
I stare at my television, and mumble, “Nothing.”
“Did you two break up?” she asks again, clearly not giving up.
