Page 94 of Unconditionally Yours

Of course it’s him. Not only does he live in her head, he gets to play savior too.

I snort. “Did you fuck her in your office?”

He sighs. That long, tight sigh that says he’s above this and also very, very tired. “I have not engaged or encouraged her attention.”

But he knows he has it. Because Delilah is not subtle. She’s violently suggestive. My grip tightens around the phone. “She’s fucking other men,” I say.

“How does that make you feel?” he asks.

I bark out a laugh that doesn’t sound human. “Don’t pull your clinical bullshit with me. I fucked her. I gave her something I don’t even give myself. I let her in. And then she tells me I’m not the only one.”

There’s a long silence. Long enough for me to hear the clatter of a pool cue inside.

“She said your name,” I say quietly. “You were one of them. How the hell do I compete with a man like you?”

“I hear you are saying you don’t feel like you are good enough for Miss Darling,” he says, soft like he’s walking me back from a ledge.

I stare at my tank. At the reaper she kissed even after I threatened her. I brush a finger over her scrunchie that somehow made its way back to my wrist. “I’m not good for anyone. She’s…”

“She’s choosing you,” Rhys says carefully. “Maybe she’s choosing more than one of you. But she’s not hiding. She’s giving you her chaos. Her honesty. That’s not nothing.”

“No,” I whisper. “It’s everything. I want to hurt Hank.”

“Because he hurt her,” Rhys says.

“Because he got to hurt her. Because I wasn’t there to stop it.” I grind my teeth. “And now I don’t know what the fuck to do with this feeling in my chest that doesn’t go away no matter how fast I drive.”

“You don’t need to fix everything tonight,” he says.

“I want to kill Benji,” I say, low like a confession, loud like a war drum. Because more than Hank, when she said the name Benji she went soft eyed. “I hit Chad,” I add, because if we’re listing sins, might as well toss that one on the pyre.

“Tell me where you are,” Rhys says.

I rattle off the bar name.

“I’m on the way. Don’t go inside.”

I don’t answer right away. Just stare at the couple fucking on the wall like if I watch long enough, I’ll forget the sound she made when she whispered my name like a secret she wanted to keep.

“Can’t promise that,” I finally say.

“Jett?”

I hang up.

I’m already halfway to the door when I feel my phone vibrating again in my pocket. Probably him. Maybe her. I don’tlook. I don’t want to see her name. Don’t want to see some chirpy text about ketchup or ghosts or how her panties are haunted now that I touched them.

The music bleeds through the cracked window panes. Something loud and screaming and angry, perfect for what’s crawling up my throat. This place is a pit. Smells like blood and beer and bastards. One pool table. Three guys throwing darts like it’s target practice. No one looks up when I walk in. Good.

I don’t want them to look.

I want to look at Benji. The one I can’t fight. The one she thinks about when I’m inside her.

Fuck, I’d rather get punched in the mouth than picture that. Her smiling for him. Sweet for him. Curious and cruel and fucking hers the way she was with me.

The way she isn’t now.

“You got a problem?” one of the dart-throwers says.