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“You good to go home?”
She smiles softly. “I’ll be fine.”
I nod, climbing out of the back and stretching my legs. I’m too tall for the back of the Bentley. Another way I don’t “fit” into this world.
“Mason,” Mila calls before I shut the door. When I look back at her, her expression is guarded. “I trust your judgment. You always do the right thing.”
She’s wrong. I’ve tried to do the right thing my entire life, but this time . . . I’m not sure I want to. If giving Hannah up is the right thing, I don’t know if I can.
If I’m toxic, she made me this way.
Now she gets to live with the consequences.
“Have a good night, Mila.”
Hannah’s house is pink.
Fucking pink. Like pink lemonade on a hot summer day.
My truck looks out of place up front, but as I stand on the little porch, knocking on her door, I realize, so do I.
I’ve always been out of place in her world, just as she is in mine. We weren’t meant to meet. I know it. The fucking universeknows it and it reminds me every time I’m forced to remember she’s Melissa Gaines’ sister.
The forbidden fruit.
Thank fuck Mila didn’t mention what she walked in on at the therapy session. I have a feeling Hannah would be the final nail in the coffin for Mom and me. She’d see it as a betrayal, even if Hannah wasn’t the one who partook in the events that nearly destroyed us. She’s related to Melissa, and that’s enough in Mom’s eyes.
I knock again when Hannah doesn’t answer and finally, I hear footsteps on the other side of the door just before she opens it. I’m still tense from the gladiator-style family therapy session, and I’d rather be alone, but I gave her my word.
And I know she’d go by herself if I didn’t go with her.
I have half a mind to tell her to hurry up, so we can get this over with, but when I see her . . . I stop dead in my fucking tracks.
Bare toes with red polish, tanned legs leading to a silky black robe that sits entirely too fucking high on her thighs. Lace from her bra at the center and finally, those fucking freckles that almost did me in years ago.
Fuck me.
“Hey,” her cheeks flame, but she doesn’t move to open the door.
“Are you going to let me in, Hannah?” My voice is just as dark as my mood, though I can’t tell if it’s lifted since she opened the door or gotten worse at the sight of what I can’t have.
Probably a bit of both.
“Oh, sorry,” she chuckles nervously, stepping out of the way to let me inside.
“Here,” I murmur, holding out the bouquet of white daisies I felt the need to bring. Now that I’m here, I’m deciding I should have thrown them out the fucking window.
She pauses, cheeks brighter than I’ve ever seen them.
“I thought this wasn’t romantic,” she teases and I shrug.
“It’s not.”
“So you always show up at a girl’s house with flowers and take her to kinky sex clubs?”
I swear to fucking God . . .
“You plan to go in that?”
