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“I think so.”
“You think so?” He nodded. “Well, listen, I’m goin’ home. This night needs to end. Do me a favor: let me know when you know for sure so I don’t waste any more of my precious fuckin’ time with you.”
“Hayes, you’re not wasting your time with me. Don’t ever think that.”
He changed course and started walking back towards the elevator, then flipped around to face Ryan. “You wanna continue this shit? Then a few things have to happen, Rook. For one, get your fuckin’ ass back to therapy. Clearly, you need it. Two, you have to get over her. I don’t know how many times you need to hear it from me, from her, but it is not gonna happen with you two. You know I love Mar to death, but I refuse to live in anyone’s shadow, man. As much as I’ve always wanted it to be the three of us? It’s not gonna. You have to let her go, for you, for me, and for her. And three?” He pressed the elevator button and it opened. He stepped in and turned to face Ryan. “You’re gonna fix this shit with her and Jake.”
The door started to close, but Ryan blocked it with his arm. “He needed to hear the truth.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make, Rook. That was hers, and you stole that from her. I don’t agree with her hidin’ it, and you might not either, but it wasn’t your call. You’re gonna fix it. I don’t know how but figure it the fuck out.”
Ryan moved his arm and watched the elevator door close.
“Happy fucking birthday to me,” he mumbled, trudging back towards the apartment.
Truth Hurts (39)
It’d been almost two weeks.
Amara and Jake hadn’t spoken at all. When she’d reached out to him the following day, he let her know that he needed some time to process all that had happened. She’d even offered to tell him everything, but he wasn’t having any part of it.
“I like you, Amara. I really do. A lot. But whatever you have going on with those young boys? I don’t want any part of that shit.”
Once again, in an instant, she’d found herself in the same place she’d been when her ex-husband had cheated and after her divorce: lying in her bed, wishing death would swallow her whole. There was a small portion of it that was because of Jake, as she really did like him, but it was mostly a resurgence of excruciating memories that she had hoped never to revisit again.
She’d thought a lot about what Ryan had said to her that night in the hallway.
“You ever gonna start taking responsibility for anything that happens in your fucking life, or you just gonna live forever as a victim?”
As much as it killed her to admit it, he was right.
None of this would have ever happened if she’d just been able to keep her hormones under control. Sure, she’d wanted to play around after her divorce, but never at the expense of those two beautiful boys’ feelings.
For her to keep pretending this was all Ryan’s fault was completely ludicrous. She’d taken him for all he was worth, knowing full well from the day they’d met that he wasn’t a man who was mentally prepared to handle any of this. And truth be told, she’d done him dirty: she’d dated him when she didn’t want to, she’d enabled his sex addiction by coaxing him into an open relationship, and she’d led him on after dumping him literal minutes after fucking his teammate in front of him.
She’d broken him.
And then there was Tyler, who she’d used for sex on multiple occasions just because she could, knowing damn well that as much as he tried to play it off, he had feelings for her, too. She had no right to lead either of them on the way she had, and despite all of it, both had stuck by her side, having taken care of her over the past couple weeks.
“Hey.”
Ryan had knocked on her door on day two of her hibernation with a plate in his hand and a bottle of water under his arm. “Can I come in for a sec? I just brought you something to eat. You need to eat, Mar.” He’d set the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which looked like a blind, one-armed toddler had made it, and the water on her nightstand as she’d pulled the covers up over her head and rolled away from him.
“I guess you’re still mad at me. I’ll leave. Just wanted to make sure you had something to eat.”
If she’d had any balls, she’d have told him the truth: she wasn’t mad at him at all. She was furious with herself for the damage she’d done to him. He wasn’t the same man she’d met in September, and she knew it was all her fault.
By the third day, when every single one of his texts had gone unanswered, Tyler’s grace period had expired, and he arrived at her bedroom door. He’d come in without knocking, sat down on the bed next to her, and reached a hand up to her face, stroking her cheek.
“Why don’t you shower? You’ll feel better, and it’s pretty fuckin’ obvious you haven’t.” He waved his hand in front of his nose in a futile attempt to get her to smile, then pulled back the covers, slipped his hands under her arms, and helped her get up. He led her to her bathroom, set the water for her, and helped her get undressed, keeping his eyes squeezed shut the entire time.
“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” she mumbled, stepping into the shower and closing the door behind her.
“I know. But I’m a fuckin’ gentleman.”
“You really are, Ty.”
He’d gathered up some clothes for her, laid them on the bathroom sink, and waited in her room until she finished and re-emerged. “Wanna go for a ride somewhere? Anywhere you wanna go. Ice cream, pick up some hookers. It’s your world, babe.”
