Page 49 of Beyond the Stix
“Jesus,” Danny utters. “What about John?”
“He went snooping in my phone without my permission. And you know how I feel about that.”
“I do. Did he at any point ask you who sent the texts and what they were about?”
I pause, looking at my friend with guilt. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean not exactly?” One of his eyebrows arches high in question.
“He asked me who was blowing up my phone, and I lied, and told him it was nothing,” I say with an expelled breath. “I’m a fucking idiot.”
“I’d say so,” Danny agrees with an inkling of a smile.
I glance out the window again, and my heart lurches at the sight. John is getting into the passenger side of that red sedan and then they take off. Suddenly I feel bereft, like all the air in my lungs has evaporated, and I can’t breathe.
And the next thing I know I’m on the ground, and I’m looking up at Danny and Tobias, who are hovering over me.
“He passed out.” I think that’s what Danny says, but I’m not too sure since there’s ringing in my ears. The sudden brightness in the room isn’t helping either.
“Lay him in bed.” I think that’s Pen or Dom talking.
“Should we call an ambulance?” someone else asks.
“I want to lay down,” I whisper to no one specifically. In fact, I want to keep my eyes closed and sleep, as misery bleeds into my body.
“Good idea.” I’m sure that’s Bobby.
Tobias and Danny help me into bed. I don’t bother with my clothes, but my friend takes off my shoes. “Call me if you need anything,” he says, before quiet settles in the room.
The overwhelming grief I’ve kept at bay is now drowning my heart with remorse for sending him away.
The idea that John’s gone, by my actions—my insecurities—my lack of forethought. And for the first time in over a year, I hate the solitude I once craved. But it’s done. John left. And he might never come back.
SEVENTEEN
John
“I’m glad Tobias called me,”Ben says as he lowers the radio. “I’ve been thinking about you lately.”
“You have?” I glance at Ben for a moment before returning my gaze to the road. I once found his tall, slim figure and his beautiful elfin face attractive. But he’s no comparison to Connor’s rugged exterior and penetrating green eyes.
Even the soft accent of black that outlines Ben’s bright, light amber eyes can’t distract me enough to have sex with this guy again.
“Yes. I miss your marks on me.” He waggles his brows. “Want me to pull over?”
“I told you, Ben, that I appreciate you giving me a ride to Black Rock, especially since you’re heading in the same direction. Butthisis all that will be. A car ride. Nothing more.”
“Really?” His lips drop into a frown. “It wasn’t that long ago that you craved my touch.”
“No, you craved getting fucked, and I wanted to do the fucking. But not anymore. I’m not your guy—never was,” I say plainly so that Ben won’t mistake my meaning.
“Jesus Christ, John. All you had to do is say no nicely, and I would have got it. When did you turn into such an asshole?” he huffs, his body stiffening as he takes the curve around Route 447 until he merges on Route 34, leaving Gerlach behind us.
I glance back at the rear window, hoping to see the bus. But all there is, as the dark swallows us up, is the fading light of the small town.
“What are you looking at?” Ben wiggles in his seat as he, too, looks back.
Confessing to my ex-lover that I’m into Connor in a bad way, but he wants nothing to do with me anymore, would be a bad idea. It would be the in Ben would use to attempt to get back into my life.