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Her eyes fly open, wide with shock. They drop just as fast—but not before I catch the flicker of guilt in them. It hits like a sucker punch to the gut.
She does want him. Of course she does... that's what this is really about. That's why she acts half like she does want me and the other half like she doesn't want me.
I take a step back, trying to see the situation clearly—to figure out exactly what I'm feeling. It's not betrayal, not exactly. Actually, thinking about it, not at all. Not jealousy either. But yeah, I'm pissed. Dean made such a big deal about me keeping my distance, yet he's over here making dinner with her like it's a damn date. I've walked in on them more than once, smiling and talking like they've known each other for years. I figured he had a bit of a thing for her, but I brushed it off.
Now though, I'm annoyed. Dean's a damned hypocrite. He doesn't want me near her—not to protect her like he's been pretending all this time, but because he wants her for himself. And that's fine. I don't mind a little competition. But the bastard isn't playing fair.
Ultimately, it's her call. I can't be too mad about it. If she wants Dean more than she wants me, well… there's nothing I can do about that.
"Is it him?" I ask quietly, needing to hear it. "You don't want to be with me because you want him?"
She shakes her head—but it's weak, uncertain. No words come out. Her gaze bounces everywhere but me. Then finally, she sighs. Still silent. But that's all the answer I need.
"Right." I force a smile, even as bitterness swells in my chest. "Well… I guess that makes sense."
"Reed, I?—"
"No, it's cool." I hold up a hand to stop her.
Disappointed? Yeah. But I'm not mad at her. She has every right to choose who she wants, and just because she didn't choose me doesn't mean I get to sulk like a child. If she wants Dean, then fine—I'll be happy for them.
Eventually.
Sure, it fucking sucks, and yeah, I'm drowning in envy. But I'll get over it. Might take a few weeks.
Hell, maybe by next month I'll even be rooting for them. Perhaps Dean will get his act together, settle down, and they'll build a happy family, push out a couple of kids. Maybe then the ache in my chest will finally stop bouncing off my damn ribs.
God, how pathetic. I don't even know why I'm so upset. It's not like I wanted to marry her or anything ridiculous like that. It was a fling, two people having fun. I'm being a sore loser.
So why does it hurt so much?
The silence between us stretches awkwardly. I shrug. "I suppose this is where I make a graceful exit."
I flash her a grin—playful on the surface, but her sorrowful gaze twists the knife deeper.
"Oh, and I forgot to mention—I ran into the guy you called about fixing the shingles on your roof. He gave me the quote. I think it's dogshit. I could do it for half that, easy."
"You can?"
"Yup. I could start tomorrow." It'll give me something to focus on. A distraction.
"Thank you," she says softly, regret shimmering in her eyes. I guess she feels bad for hurting me—but I want to show her it's okay. So I pat her on the shoulder.
Bad move. That makes it more awkward—and messes me up even worse.
I need to get out of here.
"Sweet dreams, darling," I murmur, gently shifting her aside so I can reach the door. I can't resist—I press a kiss to her hair before I leave. Her scent clings to me the whole way back.
By the time I reach my room, I'm buzzing with restless energy. I want to punch something. Scream. Anything.
Yeah, I know—overreaction. But I've never been good at bottling things up. I need a release. A fight. A fuck. Something.
I jump in the shower, throw on clothes, and grab my truck keys from the hook.
On my way out, I spot Lennon on the veranda, drink in hand, staring up at the moon.
"Where are you going?" he asks.