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Fuck, I need to get out of here. I need to see her.
I need to bury myself inside her until she forgets about that fucking plague of a sister of hers and accepts that she can’t do anything to save her.
I needher.
As I said, I’ve never been a needy person.
Looks like that’s changed now.
Hannah
Expectations are fickle things.
For example, I expect thePlan Bto work and not make me feel like I’m either going to vomit or pass out at any second.
I expect Mason to be at home this morning like he always is. For things to go back to some form of normalcy when I was just the annoying sister of the woman he detested.
Iexpectnot to care when he’s not at work when in reality, my heart is aching to see him, even if he won’t speak to me.
As I said . . . fickle things.
I’ve screwed up a lot of things in life, but this one has to take the cake. I’ve never not remembered condoms. Not until I got his hands on me.
Neither of us spoke after the pill. He asked if I’d taken my “medicine” and I said yes before he disappeared out to the garage. That’s been the extent of our conversation in the last twenty-four hours.
Something about the cold indifference in his eyes stung.
And for that, I hate myself.
I shouldn’t care. He doesn’t, but yesterday was both the best sex I’ve ever had and the most connected I’ve ever felt to another human being. Like we were a part of one another. One person.
Like he knew every piece of me.
I guess I’ve been reading too many romance novels. Shit like that doesn’t happen in the real world.
I stay up at my desk most of the day. My body aches. My limbs feel like I ran a mile last night and there’s a soreness I’m not accustomed to between my thighs.
Like I’d been ridden hard and put away wet.
I guess that’s the truth.
Every time I sit, see the light purple bruise on my neck from his teeth nipping that pulse point,lookat the empty office door and see that damned chair, I’m reminded he wasthere, and the feeling of rejection comes full circle.
Mason doesn’t want to be tied to me by a child. I get it. Kids are a big commitment, especially with someone you really aren’t supposed to like.
But did he have to act so . . . disgusted by the idea?
He wouldn’t even look at me and it stings to know he detested the idea so much, even if it would be the worst possible decision either of us could make at this point in our lives.
The cartel. My sister. My mother . . . my secrets.
No. I can’t bring a baby into that mess. Nor do Iwantto. I’m just saying . . . I don’t know what I’m saying.
What’s worse is now that I know he actually cares, at least to some degree, the sickening feeling in my stomach can only mean one thing.
I’ve fallen for him.
Mason didn’t come home last night, or if he did, I didn’t see him. His door was closed, but his truck wasn’t in the drive. With a bitter resentment that surprised even me, I found I hated the thoughts of where else he could be. Another woman’s house. A bar. Anywhere I wasn’t so he wouldn’t have to deal with me.
