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“Yeah. With every fiber of my being.”
“Should I go? Would that make it easier for you? Would Watts come back over to talk to you?”
I worried my lip between my teeth. “Can we just go together? I don’t want to watch him anymore. He’s going to do something horrible to make me jealous, and I can’t see that.”
“He doesn’t even know he’s doing it, Holt,” Carson reminded me. “If you don’t tell him, he’s going to feel horrible about it when his memory does come back.”
When I looked back over at Watson again, he was talking to the brunette as she touched his arm, but he looked bored. “It’s okay. I won’t be mad at him if something happens. It’s not his fault,” I tried to tell myself. “Let’s go.” But when I stood up, Watson turned to look at me, and it took all I had not to beg him to leave with me.
Chapter Twenty
Watson
I was not interested in Sandy and Carla. Or maybe their names were Tandy and Darla. I couldn’t remember. Every time they touched me, I cringed. I didn’t want their hands on me. I didn’t want them anywhere near me, if I were being honest. I thought maybe, just maybe, when they approached me when I was leaving the garage that I could try to get lost in them, and the old me might have been able to. Only the second I saw Holt sitting in the bar with Carson? All thoughts of being with those two girls went out the window.
I drank too much, got too loud, and ended up so drunk I could hardly walk. I knew it was bad. I knew the doctors had told me to watch my alcohol intake because of the accident, but I really didn’t care. My brain was already scrambled, so what would a little more hurt? I stumbled out of the bar, made sure the girls had an Uber home, and then took my own back to the RV, only to find Holt’s room empty.
I had never felt so angry and hurt in my entire life, but instead of hitting something like I so desperately wanted to do, I curled up on his bed and cried. Maybe it was because I couldn’t remember anything from the past few weeks. Or it was possible it was because Holt, my stepbrother, my so-called best friend, had suddenly pushed me away like I didn’t matter. Why couldn’t I remember? Was it so horrible, so tragic, that my brain didn’t want to remember? If he had a boyfriend, why didn’t he tell me it was the reason he’d moved out?
At some point, I obviously fell asleep, because when I woke up—with a hangover so bad I instantly swore I would never drink again—disappointment hit me hard when I found myself alone. Holt had never left me for this long before. Was that what this was about? Had I gotten too needy? Did he want to find his own friends, make his own life without me? I somehow managed to get up, shower, and get dressed to head down to the drivers’ meeting. Even though I wasn’t racing, I wanted to be there.
When Mason saw me, he shook his head.
“You look like shit.”
“Feel like it, too.”
He snorted. “Drink the whole bar, did you?” Mason nudged my shoulder. “Thought you might give that up with your head injury and all.”
“Yeah, well, I thought it might help get over... Can I tell you something and have you not judge me for it?” I watched the way his brows dipped, but he didn’t look worried. “Say you won’t judge me first, dick, because I don’t want you to tease me about this later.”
“I’m your friend, man. I won’t judge you. You can trust me,” Mason promised.
I looked around the crowded room, narrowing my eyes at Carson, who seemed to be avoiding me, and then chewed nervously on my lip. “I’ve been having these dirty dreams, uh, about Holt,” I confessed.
“Like sex dreams?” Mason whispered.
