Book 2 | "So, did you just bring me here to fuck me?"
Logan brushed his lips against mine. "Would you leave if I said yes?"
"No," I whispered, unable to deny him. "I wouldn't."
***
Grant Matthews has been secretly pining after his old college frie...
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Two days.
That's how long its been since I had "the talk" with Amelia about the affair—if I could even call it that. I had no idea how I was going to tell my family that the wedding was off. Not to mention the fact that I was in love with another man. Yeah, that little...chestnut.
Twelve times.
That's the number of times I picked up my phone and typed out a text I wanted to send to Grant—then deleted it. I was hopeful when I called him after I left Amelia's apartment. I thought he might be willing to spend time with me so we could talk. Talk and try figure this crazyness out. But he shut that shit down before I could even ask. He had that same odd note in his voice as the last time we ended things badly. That made me a little concerned that something happened. Maybe with his dad? I had no idea—and I wasn't going to be able to find out.
Twenty laps.
That's how many times I walked—or ran—through the forest that surrounded the rustic cabin I was staying in. It helped a little when the jumbled mess of my mind became too much. And if that didn't work, then the absurd amount of liquor I brought with me would.
As I sat on the porch swing, I listened to the cicadas sing as the sun started to finally go down. It was peaceful here. The perfect opposite from the inner turmoil I was dealing with.
Luckily, there was no cell reception here. Even though I knew when I went back into town to get more liquor and cigarettes—yeah, quitting didn't last— I was going to probably have missed calls from Amelia, Wyatt, and my family. Definitely not ready to deal with that.
Amelia said that I needed to tell my parents that the engagement was off and explain to them why it was off. That meant I needed to tell them about Grant. How would I even begin to tell them that?
Questions. There would be so many questions from my parents that I probably wouldn't be able to answer. Wouldn't feel comfortable answering. My mother—christ, my mother—was going to be heart broken.
I didn't know how she was going to feel about me and Grant, but I knew she was going to be upset about the failed wedding she thought was still happening. I ran my hand through my hair, tugging on the ends.
She was probably planning it right now. Picking flowers or tasting wedding cakes. Listening to bands. Fuck. What if she was with Amelia? Amelia promised to give me a week to figure my shit out, but what if she ended up telling my mother the truth because she couldn't lie to her face? I couldn't really blame her for that, could I? This was all just so messed up.
I thought back to that night. Yeah, the one where I left my fucking jacket in his hotel room and came back. That night where we had mind-blowing sex and I ended up sleeping over.
"I haven't been with anyone since..."
"Since what?" Even though my eyes were straight ahead, I knew that he turned to look at me.
