Page 66 of Bitter When He Begs

And now? Now, I’m here. Sober. Laughing. Healing.

I’ve still got a long way to go. Still have cravings that sneak up on me in the dark, still have days where the old ghosts crawl up my spine and whisper that I’ll never be enough. But I believe I can fight them off now because I’m not doing it alone anymore.

Eli claps me on the shoulder. “Proud of you, man. I don’t say it enough, but I am.”

Julian nods. “Yeah, and you look good,” he says.

“I always look good,” I say with a smirk, and he groans, knowing he walked right into that.

“Jesus, I take it back,” he says and walks away, muttering something under his breath.

Both Eli and I stand there, chuckling as we watch him, then Eli turns to me. “He’s right, though. Compared to a few months ago, you look good.”

I know that’s what Julian meant, but I wasn’t gonna let that one slide. Then, as Eli walks away, I can’t help but wonder if Sage is coming today. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but I do. And as if God doesn’t hate me enough, Sage walks onto the back porch, and I forget how to fucking breathe.

Luca

It’sstupid.It’ssofucking stupid.

I don’t even know why this guy got under my skin and why he lingers in the back of my mind like a song I can’t shake. He’s not even my type. I usually go for someone older—someone who knows how to play the game and doesn’t blush every time I flirt.

But Sage has this entire chokehold on me just by existing. He walks into a room, and my instincts lock onto him like a heat-seeking missile.

It’s been months, and I should have moved on from my obsession with him, but the second he steps onto the back patio, I feel it like a hit straight to my chest.

His blond hair’s loose today, longer than it was three months ago. It brushes just past his shoulders, catching the sunlight in a way that shouldn’t be allowed. He’s wearing those damn glasses, and the lenses slide down his nose just enough for him to push them up with that little annoyed wrinkle between his brows.

Then my gaze drops lower, taking him in properly, and I almost fucking choke. I don’t know why my brain decided he was some scrawny thing when he isn’t. He’s lean—toned in a way that says he works out but doesn’t obsess over it. His arms and shoulders are defined but not bulky.

He’s wearing a tank top that hugs his chest, and board shorts slung low on his hips. It’s annoying, so fucking annoying because now I can’tnotlook. And, of course, he’s walking in with Nate Carter, his human guard dog with a temper problem and a scowl permanently etched into his face.

I don’t like the guy. Not because he’s done anything to me personally, but because he looks at Sage like he’s worried I’ll break him, and he’s not wrong. I could break him. I already broke him in a thousand different ways. The difference is, now I’d kill to put all those pieces back together.

I steel myself, roll my shoulders, and take a long pull from my water bottle to keep from glaring. Then, because the universe is an asshole, those big brown eyes lock on mine and the rest of the world drops away for a second.

Just one second. That’s all it takes, and I hate that my heart fucking stutters like I’ve just been tackled.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I’m mid-sip from my water bottle, trying not to be the textbook definition of feral when Sage veers away from Nate and starts walking straight toward me. No hesitation. No flinching. He’s walking like he knows I’m watching, which is unfair, because I am.

He stops a few feet in front of me, pushing his glasses up with one hand. “Hey,” he says. His voice is a little rough, and I wonder if he had to talk himself into this.

I lift a brow and try not to grin. “Hey.”

I catch the way his fingers twitch at his sides like he wants to shove them into his pockets but stops himself. His eyes flickover my face… and then his cheeks flush. Just a hint of color that blooms across his freckles, then climbs up his neck, and brushes over the tops of his ears. “Something wrong?”

I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to respond, but instead, he scowls and blurts, “Stop looking at me like that.”

I blink, snapping out of whatever the fuck I just fell into. “Like what?”

Sage gives me an exasperated look, waving a hand vaguely. “Like that,” he huffs. “With your face.”

I stare at him, not entirely sure what the fuck he means until I realize I have no idea how I’m looking at him right now. I wasn’t even aware I was looking at him in any particular way.

Which is just fucking great.

A laugh escapes before I can catch it, and I shift my weight to one leg, giving him a once-over that I don’t even try to hide now that he’s called it out. “Didn’t realize I was.”