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“That makes two of us,” I whisper, rubbing my eyes.
“Want me to take her?”
I nod. Carefully, she peels Berlin off my chest and holds her, rocking back and forth when she begins to wake up. Willa stares down at me. “So how’d it really go?”
Groaning, I rub my hands over my face. “Awful.”
“You knew it wasn’t going to be easy. You can’t break a girl’s heart over and over again and expect her to forgive you just like that. We’re grudge holders.”
I don’t want to hear that, but I know there’s truth in what she says.
Willa is the closest thing I have to a mother. I tell her more than I tell anyone else, aside from Scarlet, because she just won’t stop. You tell her shit you ordinarily wouldn’t to get her to shut the fuck up.
Finally, I cave and look to her for advice. “What do I do?”
Her smile softens as she presses her lips to Berlin’s head. “There’s not much you can do, Roan. You have to wait and see what her next move will be.”
Me, wait? That’s funny.
When Willa leaves, I sit out by the pool. The rain’s subsiding and I watch the sky turn from black, to blue, then soften into a pinkish purple. I think about what it is I’m attached to with Ophelia. Why can’t I let her go? Why have I not had sex with anyone else but her in years?
Why… her?
I can have any woman I want. I don’t say that to be cocky, but it’s the truth. I can, but I don’t want anyone but a green-eyed girl who looks at me like I’m a fucking king.
Is that why? Because she worshiped me at one time?
No, no, it’s deeper. More defined than that. It’s… bone-deep. She’s in my blood, an attachment I can’t shake, and it’s been there since day one. Since the moment I met her I remember having an unmistakable bond with her. One that in another life, we had something together. We had to. There was no other way to explain it because that kind of love, it doesn’t just happen. It’s the kind of connection you can’t walk away from. I’ve tried. I keep coming back like a goddamn fool, and now I think maybe, it’s over. I fucked up too much.
But when have you ever known me to give up easily?
I heard this quote once. I don’t know where, but it said something along the lines of at your best, you still won’t be enough for the wrong person. At your worst, you’ll always be worth it to the right person.
She’s with the wrong fucking person.
As I slowly regain consciousness, the smells of sweetness and the distinct bite of fresh roasted coffee invade my senses. My eyes flutter open, and for a brief moment, I think I’m in the wrong house because Agustin doesn’t cook. What could that smell be coming from… unless? No, I couldn’t be there, could I?
Alarmed, I sit up in a rush, regretting it immediately. No, it’s not. I’m… in my condo. I look left and notice Agustin isn’t in bed with me and his side of the bed is perfectly made. Figures. He will literally freak out if the bed isn’t made.
Aside from the pounding in my head, do you notice the quick skip of my heart and the flood of guilt that surges through me when the realization hits me that I’m not in Roan’s bed? That brief spark of disappointment should be an obvious answer to me, but for some reason, I push it aside. Do you notice how it’s quickly followed by anger and resentment?
Me too. Fucking jerk. He knew how I felt about lying, yet he did the one thing he promised he’d never do.
In the distance, I hear a woman’s voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. “I have to be in Long Beach by noon.”
It’s Agustin’s sister. My heart thuds quicker. Long Beach? What? The FIM Night of the JUMPs is in Long Beach tonight. Why would she be going to that?
Crap. I swallow and fight over emotions flooding through me. Memories of Roan, the lie, his truth, it all hits me at once. I can’t believe he let me believe something so vile. Why? Why would he do that to me? Probably for the same reason my parents didn’t tell me about how I came into the world until I was twelve. But here’s the problem. If you tell the truth, you can forgive them. If you lie, you betray them. The worst part? He once told me he felt betrayed that I slept with his brother, yet he started this whole chain of events because he lied about the girl.
Why?
I had so many questions for him, yet, I didn’t want them. I wanted to write him out of my story for good and never look back.
Footsteps near the door. Shit, Agustin is coming. In an effort to disguise myself, I flop back down on the mattress and pretend I’m still sleeping. Only I nail the back of my head on the headboard in the process. Hard.
“Fuck,” I curse, rubbing my head.
“You’re up,” Agustin says, too cheery, entering our room. Holding two cups of coffee, he shuts the door with his foot, handing me one of the mugs. “Figured you’d need this.”