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“My – oh, Angie.” She squeezed her eyes closed. “I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, well, she did.”
“So?”
“So? I don’t want that to happen again.”
She looked away from him, dragging in a breath.
“You said you couldn’t separate sex from anything else. That’s why you didn’t want us to sleep together. What changed tonight?”
“I grew up.”
“What does that mean?”
“I got real, okay? I decided I deserve something good to come from this, even if it’s just the satisfying of a physical urge from time to time.”
He frowned. It should have reassured him, so why didn’t it? Why did he suddenly feel empty inside?
“My turn to ask a question.” She put her hands on her hips in a clear gesture of defiance, with no idea how beautiful she looked, as a light summer breeze rustled her hair. “Why did you end things with me?”
He was sober enough to know there was danger in every answer he could give to that. “It’s what I do,” he said eventually, crossing his arms over his broad chest, staring at her with what he hoped was an expressionless face.
“What is?”
Great. Not such a smart answer, after all.
“I don’t do the whole relationship thing.”
She glared at him. “Could have fooled me. Youdidfool me.”
“I know.” He closed his eyes against a wave of self-recrimination. “You were different.”
“Why? How?”
“I don’t know, okay! Does it matter? Does it change a damned thing about what we’re doing now?”
“Tell me this,” she ignored him. “Did you love me? Even a little bit?”
He flinched at the question, panic blaring like a siren in his chest. “No.” The answer came hard and fast, a visceral rejection of the very idea of love, of the vulnerability that opened within him. It had nothing to do with Abby and everything to do with the man he was, the man his life had shaped him to be. “Never.”
This time, he watched her, and saw the way her face shifted, the way she recoiled, ever so slightly, showing pain, and he wanted to swallow the words back. No, not the words, but the emphasis he’d put on them, as though the idea of loving her was ridiculous – when the truth was, it had always been terrifying. “Look, Abby –,”
She lifted a hand to silence him. “It’s okay.” But the way her throat moved spoke volumes. It wasn’t okay.Shewasn’t okay, and that was his fault. “I’d rather know the truth. I mean, I guess Ididknow, but there was a part of me that always hoped…” She smiled wistfully, almost bitterly. “Anyway, now I know.”
She turned and left; all he could do was stare after her and wonder why he felt as though he’d just made a monumental mistake.
Chapter16
HIS FIRST THOUGHT WAS that it had been a bad dream. That he’d imagined all of it. Every single part – from meeting Winona, from the way she’d described Abby’s headspace back then, to the fact he’d spent the afternoon licking his wounds in a bar rather than being adult enough to face the music. To the fact they’d had sex the night before and it had felt so goddamned great, to the conversation – argument – that had taken place. To the way she’d stalked inside afterwards, her back straight, and turned from him so resolutely that just the memory of it sent a shiver down her spine even now.
“Shit.” He slammed his hand into the mattress beside him, then pushed the sheet aside and stood up, ignoring the pounding between his temples. Self-inflicted pain didn’t get sympathy. He looked around, pulled on his jeans, then wrenched the front door open – and almost bumped into Abby.
The gears in his chest ground to a halt. His eyes focused.
“Hi.” His voice was rough.
“Gray.” She looked beyond him, barely able to meet his eyes.
