Page 20

FOURTEEN

AUGUSTE

The fuck it part of my brain is activated. In full force. On switch jammed.

There’s no going back from the things I’ve said to Courtney in the last twenty-four hours. The worst part is that I don’t want to.

She doesn’t have a boyfriend, doesn’t do relationships, and is completely oblivious to all the heads she turns simply walking by.

I keep running over all the conversations we’ve had, trying to figure out how and why she’s single.

But aside from the small tidbits she’s shared about her family, she hasn’t divulged much about herself, and past relationships aren’t a topic that she and Delilah discuss, which leads me to only one possible conclusion why she is here… unattached…

Mine —even if she won’t admit it yet.

Someone’s fucked with my girl, and that’s got me all kinds of ready to fuck someone up. Once I’ve figured this mystery out, I’ll straighten it out. But first, I need to ease back into the comfort zone Court and I had before my poker face betrayed me and I laid my cards on the table.

Which is why I’m parked outside the facility where the Ubers pick up all the time, engine idling low, watching the entrance like a desperate fucking fool.

Since Matheo’s sister dropped him off earlier from doggie daycare, Samson’s been sniffing the air for Courtney. If he could have dragged me around the hallways looking for her, he would have.

Now, he’s squirming in the passenger seat, pawing at the window every time someone walks past.

“Calm down, boy,” I mutter, rubbing behind his ear. “She’s coming. ”

He mewls as though he understands.

Like he feels it too—the sick pulse of need hammering through me—he throws himself at the dash, trying to get on top of it even though he’s had a growth spurt that means he can’t fit in the squat space anymore.

“Dude, you’re going to get hurt,” I grumble, lifting him up in front of me and watching the heart-shaped dog tag Court picked out dangle.

It reminds me of the lip gloss tube in my glove box. The one Court dropped yesterday. The one I picked up from her footwell and kept. For a reminder of the honeyed scent of her smile. For a brief taste of her lips. For?—

Samson’s high-pitched bark draws my attention back to him. Then to where he’s whimpering at.

Courtney.

Something’s off. Completely fucking wrong as she glances up at the sky with her face all twisted while holding her phone up to her ear.

Her slender five-foot-six frame appears smaller. Tired. And yeah, I’m gong to fuck someone up for making my girl look like that. Like her world is anything but the perfect it should be. Like she is.

Still, she’s beautiful. In a way that makes my ribs ache when she ends her call and swipes her hands down her face roughly.

I’m out of the car and heading to her before I can stop myself. It takes Samson leaping from my arms and breaking my stride so I don’t trip over him, for me to pause.

Courtney hugs her tote tighter to her chest when her eyes meet mine. Watery. Red-tinged.

There’s none of her usual fire and sass. No smile. No eye roll.

Court falls into a crouch, catching Samson in her arms and letting him lather her face in doggie kisses. Kisses that wrench at the organs in my chest. Kisses that make me… jealous . Of a dog. A puppy I bought for her.

That thought eases the vice around my lungs.

It almost pulls a smile out of me when she stands, hugging the wriggling fool to her chest like her next breath completely depends on him.

As if her world has been made better by him—by me .

Because he’s mine. My ode to the fucking madness she’s brought into my life.

The constant need and craving to be around her. To have her.

Samson lets out a little yip as she walks up to me. My hands throb with the necessity to hold her. To bring her into me so that I can shelter her from the grey clouds dulling her summer sky gaze .

I don’t touch her, though. If there ever was a time to respect boundaries, this is it.

Instead, I walk beside her to the passenger side of my car and open the door for her.

In silence. Everything in a suffocating silence I hate because it’s not the beautiful, fiery woman I know.

The spitfire that teases me at every given chance.

This is a side of Courtney that’s completely withdrawn. Solitary. Sad.

Courtney climbs inside, still cuddling our boy while he licks her chin and nose and cheeks, eager and sloppy.

Instantly, she buries her face in his soft fur, blinking fast. Her shoulders are tight. Drawn.

Whatever the fuck is wrong is making me sick to my stomach. Almost as much as not being able to make her feel better.

Ignoring the all body groan when I step back and shut her door, I walk round to my side and get in.

The air inside the cab is thick. Heavy. Loaded with all the things I want to say, all the questions burning to be asked.

Courtney’s scent wraps around me the second I settle in—warm and soft, with a darker edge underneath.

It hits my tongue, my chest… some part of me that’s ready to fucking destroy the whole goddamn world for her.

Gripping the steering wheel so hard it creaks, I drive away from the facility. The silence gnawing at me every second of the way.

Halfway home, Courtney shifts Samson higher on her chest. He licks at her cheek, and when she tilts her face away, the streetlights catch it—the glimmer of a tear.

Fuck.

My stomach drops.

I want to pull over.

I want to demand she tell me what’s wrong.

I want to kiss the sadness off her face.

But I can’t.

I’m not allowed to want that.

Not with her.

Not when she’s already made it clear that we’re just friends . And…

Friends don’t touch.

Friends don’t want.

Friends don’t fucking ache.

Fuck. Fuck… Fuck this! Fuck the friend zone. Fuck boundaries .

My breaths are ragged, the sound filling the cab in lieu of her music, as I find her hand on Sammy’s back and grip it with mine. Tight.

Courtney lets out a soft breath, still stroking Samson’s head with her other hand, and we ride in silence like this.

We’re driving past the pier close to our place when she finally pulls her hand out of mine. Kissing the top of Samson’s head with a lingering hitch to her breath.

I instantly know what’s coming. What that kiss means.

He licks her again, whining because he knows too.

My throat burns.

When we finally pull up outside the building, she shifts like she’s preparing herself for something big.

And then, quiet and small, she says, “Maybe we shouldn’t do this anymore.”

I freeze. Because even knowing what was coming from the shift in her demeanor, the words smash through me like a runaway freight train.

“Do what?” I manage, even though the words scrape up my throat like glass.

“This.” She waves a hand between us. “The coffee. The rides. The—” Courtney clears her throat. “—you waiting outside like… like this is normal.”

Her voice cracks on the last word like it cost her everything just to say it. She swallows down the warbling waterfall, fast and fierce.

“I can make my own breakfast,” she says, her voice firmer now.

Who is she trying to convince me or herself?

“I can Uber to work. I don’t need—” Courtney cuts herself off. Shakes her head. “I don’t need this.”

I grip the wheel tighter. Anchoring myself against the need to reach for her. To grab her wrist.

To beg.

Because I’d do it for her. That’s how fucked up and hooked she’s got me on her.

Court hugs Sammy closer, burying her face in his fur again. Hiding from me. Hiding from whatever the hell this is between us. Attraction, lust, obsession…

I don't speak. Simply sit here, feeling like the floor’s fallen out beneath me. Like somehow I made it to heaven and now I’m plummeting back down, through earth, straight to hell.

Courtney moves first .

Fast.

Sharp.

As if she’s scared if she hesitates, she’ll change her mind, she sets Samson down on my lap. Then she opens the door and steps out into the thick late afternoon air.

Her tote slips off her shoulder and as she catches it with a soft curse under her breath, she pauses next to the open door.

Fuck, she doesn’t even give me one last look. Not one last chance, a moment to lose myself in her breathtaking, bottomless ocean eyes.

Even though everything in me screams not to say anything. Not to be the asshole she needs me not to be. I can’t help myself.

I force my voice to stay calm, grounded, and I lean over, keeping one hand on the wheel and the other holding Samson to me as I speak low—right into the stretch of air between us.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Courtney freezes. Trembling hand clenching tighter on her bag strap.

She says nothing in return.

Doesn’t look back. Simply closes the door, turns, and disappears up the steps into the building.

Gone.

Just like that. Leaving me staring after her wondering why I’m still sitting here waiting till the coast is clear for me to go park my car a safe distance away before I come back and sneak upstairs to my apartment right next to hers.

Samson whines softly when I place him in her vacated seat. And I sit here a minute longer, staring at the empty sidewalk where she stood.

Feeling like I just let her walk away with every fucking piece of me.

And worse—knowing I’m not done.

Not even close.

I kill the engine and just… sit in a dark corner of the parking lot, staring at the concrete wall in front of me like it might offer clarity. Maybe the answer to where I go from here.

Courtney’s torn through every wall I didn’t even realize I had left. Every wall that I had put in place to keep me focused on the one dream I’ve had since I can remember. Gone.

And now the idea of walking away, of not seeing her tomorrow, of pretending like none of this ever happened—it guts me .

Leaves me sitting here like an idiot, soaked in my own obsession.

There’s that whole saying of you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone, but I knew. I know . Because she’s made everything better.