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For the most part, I had assumed she wasn’t interested, that a part of her was still mine, and that the thought of being with another man made her as sick as I feel now.
How fucking conceited could I be?
Of course she’s not waiting around for me. She’s fucking beautiful and has so much to offer someone. I’m sure she probably goes out of her way to avoid it, but I know she’s aware of the lifestyle I lead, and if I’m sinking into a different woman every night, why shouldn’t she be with any man she wants?
Fuck. Maybe I’m stuck in the past, but a part of me had always thought I’d be her first.
“Mm-hmm,” Axel responds as his hand curls into a tight fist. “The fucker treated her like shit. Kept her waiting half the night and then assumed he could fuck her for a chance at getting closer to me.”
Shit. There’s that nausea rolling up on me again.
The vivid images of Raleigh in bed with some asshole hits me like a fucking freight train, and as my stomach rolls with unease, I realize this is so much more than the aftershock of my wild night in Sydney. I’m actually going to be sick.
Lunging from my seat, I barrel down the length of the jet to the small bathroom, and the second my knees hit the ground, the contents of my stomach erupt in violent waves.
Hanging my head over the toilet bowl, I desperately try to get it all up, and I’m suddenly all too aware of Axel hovering in the doorway.
“One mention of Rae dating, and you’re puking your guts up,” he comments as though I hadn’t quite noticed my current predicament. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorframe. “Interesting.”
Getting back to my feet, I clean myself up before bracing my hands against the sink and staring at him through the small mirror.
“You’re still in love with her.”
And without a moment of hesitation, I nod, feeling the weight of my heart burning to ashes inside my chest. “I never fucking stopped.”
5
Raleigh
13 YEARS OLD
The cool Michigan air rushes through the kitchen window, blowing my homework across the table as I frantically scramble after it. “No, no, no,” I panic, throwing myself from the old barstool behind the small island table.
Mom laughs, wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron before hurrying across the kitchen and warring with the old window as it gets jammed. This house is falling apart, but it’s ours, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Well, kinda. If someone offered me a McMansion in Beverly Hills, living it up like royalty, I’m not going to say no, but this is home.
My papers continue flying across the room, and just as I pin one under my foot, Mom finally wins the battle and unjams the window, pulling it down into place. “My goodness,” she laughs, pressing her hand to her chest when something catches her attention outside. Her brows furrow. “Oh, looks like Axel’s bringing home strays again.”
“Huh?”
I cross the kitchen and step into Mom’s side before peering out the window to see Axel striding down the footpath with a dark-haired boy beside him, but he doesn’t seem boyish in the same way Axel does. He seems like . . . more.
My gaze narrows, he’s too far to really make out the features of his face, but there’s something there, something alluring that demands every bit of my attention.
His hair is floppy, almost covering his eyes, and the black sleeveless tank that shows off defined arms has something clenching in my stomach. He’s kinda gorgeous. But add that guitar slung over his shoulder and suddenly there’s not a single thought inside my head.
Axel is sixteen and thinks he’s going to be a big deal, and I love that for him. You know, I think it’s great he’s so happy to live in delusion. On the other hand, I’m hoping to make it to the big leagues. Any of the big colleges would do, I’m not picky, but that’s about where my plan stops. I have no idea what I want to do with my life, but I know I want to make it count.
I want to help people. I want to do good; I just don’t know how.
I watch Axel and his new friend as they reach the top of our driveway and make their way toward the front door, and with every step they take, my heart races just a little bit faster.
What the hell is this?
“Did you want to stop drooling before they come through the door?” Mom teases. “Or should I let you keep gaping out the window like a love-sick puppy?”
My eyes widen in horror, realizing way too late just how obvious I’m being. “I’m not—I don’t . . .”
