Page 57 of Bruised

I groan as I sniff the pillows, finding Lane’s scent wherever I turn. I grip my cock and stroke it languidly, remembering the way he grasped for it last night, how desperate he was to feel it bare, with no barriers between us. How fucking reckless I was to let him have it.

He didn’t deserve that. He trusted me when he shouldn’t—especially not in the middle of us fucking, when the rational part of my brain takes a hike more often than not.

The only thing I can do to make this right is to go and get tested and hope I didn’t pass something on. Unprotected oral is one thing, but penetration is crossing the line. I got lost in the moment; I didn’t fucking think.

I withdraw my hand from my crotch and stop smelling the pillows. I feel strangely… undeserving. It’s not a feeling I’m used to; I’m used to taking what I want, consequences be damned, but Lane is so sweet, so fucking perfect, that I feel the need to earn his trust and the privilege of touching him.

Sighing in defeat, I unlock my phone and make the necessary call to my parole officer to ask for permission to go get tested. I can’t believe I have to fucking do this. Ridiculous. Thankfully, I don’t have to provide any details—just tell him I need to go to the doctor’s office.

A few minutes of research tells me there’s a clinic nearby that takes walk-ins, so I get ready to go. Downstairs, I fiddle with my wallet in the hallway, wondering where the fuck Mom’s car keys are. I finally find them, but when I’m about to open the door, I feel a presence behind me.

“Where are you going?” Lane asks. He sounds strangely soft and uncertain.

“Out,” I tell him over my shoulder.

“Can I… Can I come?”

I frown. Why does he sound like that? Almost like he’s been crying? I turn around fully and study him closer. “Where’s Oliver?”

“He’s busy with college stuff,” Lane mutters, gaze downturned. “He’s been talking to his mom for ages, so I told him I’d go buy some more snacks. We’re almost out.”

I hesitate. If he comes with me, I’ll have to explain where I’m going and why. I don’t know if I’m ready for all that.

Lane wraps his arms around himself, and he looks so dejected, so utterly miserable, that I sigh and nod.

“Fine. You can come.”

Lane looks up at me and smiles—unguarded and bright. “Really?”

From that sweet smile alone, I know I’ve made the right decision.

When I was first learning how to drive, it was this car I did it in. Kind of nostalgic, to be honest. When I was a kid of fifteen, I thought I had my whole life ahead of me, but that quickly came to a stop after… that night.

Gritting my teeth, I grip the steering wheel tighter and glance over at Lane. No need to think about my disastrous past now that I’ve got him to focus on.

He’s sitting slumped in the seat and looking out the window. He hasn’t even asked me where we’re going. I suppose he’ll find out soon enough. The clinic is located about ten minutes away, so there’s not much time for chatting. I simply stop in the parking lot and let Lane connect the dots.

“Why are we here?” he asks, frowning.

I sigh and hesitate to get out of my seat. “Why do you think?”

His eyes go wide. “Don’t you trust me? That I’ve… that I’ve gotten tested?”

I raise a brow. “Of course I trust you. I’m the one who shouldn’t be trusted. You should probably get tested too, just to make sure.”

His mouth drops open into a little oh. “So in prison, you…?”

I would smirk and tease him about it, but it doesn’t feel right in this situation, so I keep serious for once, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah, you know how it is.”

“I don’t, actually. So, um, you didn’t use condoms?”

I shrug. “Commissary stocked them sometimes, but they were crazy expensive. No one bothered.”

“Oh.”

“So…” I thumb the steering wheel, an unfamiliar sense of guilt swirling through my chest. I’m not used to feeling sorry. I’m not used to apologizing for my actions. “I’m sorry,” I say anyway. “I shouldn’t have let you… convince me.”

“Well, you didn’t need much convincing.”