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Standing tall, I let Cedar hit me. I let her take out her frustration and anger on me in a way that I would never let anyone else as I watch the top of her head and her powerful swings fly from her muscular shoulders.
If she hit me in the face, she’d knock me out.
It’s not until her arms fall limp at her sides that I step into her, her heaving chest meeting mine and the heat pouring off of her exposed skin.
“Don’t.” It’s a quiet, weak threat off of lips that I ignore when I wrap my arms around Cedar and pull her all the way into my chest.
Tucking her head beneath my chin, I wrap my body around her and inhale the woodsy scent of her silky, straight hair with a hole in my chest and an ache I can’t explain in my heart.
Words stick to the tip of my tongue. Reassurances that I feel like she needs, yet none of it feels right to say out loud. So I keep my breathing as even as I can and tighten my grip on the woman that drives me mad with lust and worry.
Even now, my cock takes notice of her closeness, of her scent filling my nose, and threatens to start poking her if I don’t back up.
But I don’t.
Because having her this close feels too good to be true.
Which, it is.
I know it is when the next audible words off her lips leave that ache in my chest feeling a little wider, more painful.
“Please just go, Fin.”
The desperation in her tone, the ease of her pulling her body back from mine and leaving a gaping chill in her wake despite the heat, almost knocks the breath out of me.
“No—”
Her eyes meet mine for what feels like the first time in hours, and I don’t like the determination I see cementing her blues in a way that cuts her off from the outside world. Hardened and defensive. Too wise for too many reasons I wish I knew.
The walls go up and she cuts herself off from me.
“Just go.”
With a grinding jaw and a weight caving my chest in, I jut my chin and do as she asks.
I leave.
Chapter Fourteen
Cedar
Ifthiswereanyother time, day, or fucking year …
I’d be drowning my woes in a pint of ice cream with my besties, then heading off into the world to find someone else to get under so that I could get over someone I wasn’t even involved with. Someone I didn’t sleep with, or feel like I was in a relationship with, or spent much time with.
Because I just don’t know how to not push people away.
I’d rather steer clear than put myself back in the same old situation with the same old people over and over again. Where someone gets the idea that they have more say in my life than they really do.
Better to cut it off now, before anyone gets sticky ideas and complicates the group dynamic we’ve got going here.
That still doesn’t stop the aches that make my hands tremble and the bags that have worsened under my eyes to the point where even my concealer doesn’t conceal the shit.
I didn’t sleep last night. Which isn’t uncommon for me, but normally, I can bag at least a couple of hours before I’m back up again drawing my nightmares or heading to the parlor for opening time.
Or inking myself.
It’s one of the few things that brings me peace when my mind is chaotic.
