Page 103 of Unhinged

His mother is right. Greg has been through shit no one should ever experience. Moving up against him, I try not to touch him anywhere that would wake him or be suspicious if I’m taking advantage of his vulnerability. I tunnel my right arm beneath his neck, successful in not waking him, and my left around his upper body. Taking it a step further, I drape my left leg over his, so I’m essentially wrapped up in Greg Rodwell in every way. I want to protect him from his traumatic memories, but I can’t. Still, this is all I can offer him. I rest my head between his shoulder blades, inhaling Greg. His heartbeat vibrates my lips on his back.

I hug him to me, or me to him. I kiss his skin and whisper, “I forgive you, Greg. And you can forever trust me, but I can’t trust how I feel about you. I had to kiss a lot of frogs to find my prince. I finally found him, but I’m not good enough to be a princess. We’ll always be friends, yet I can’t watch another woman steal your heart. It hurts too much.” I cry against his back as I hug him. I don’t want to let go.

I hold on to Greg and cry until I fall asleep.

Chapter 19

Once a minute, I watch for the kitchen door to swing open, bursting with Simone, but it doesn’t. When I’m not checking the door, I’m checking my watch. Where in the hell is she? I change our schedules on the sly, so we work together. It makes the night more tolerable. But it’s obvious she’s avoiding me because of last night.

Finally, Simone enters the bar, tying on her apron. Her navy-blue skirt is stretchy and hugs her ass more than she hugged me in bed when she thought I was asleep.

Simone clung to me until her leg slipped from me. I held on to her arm to keep her close. I royally fucked up. Still sloshed somewhat, I didn’t know what to say to her last night. I don’t remember everything I did, which scares the fuck out of me, but I remember the things we said—the good and the bad.

Simone wants to end our two weeks and our marriage. She can’t. Not when we made amends and promises. I’m letting her use my name, but we’re using each other for sex. Months ago, I wanted Hadley to use me, but nothing is holding Simone and me back, and there is no shame with her. But knowing I’m temporary to her also hurts like a motherfucker.

This morning, I woke up alone, empty, and feeling like shit, but not from the alcohol. Where Simone had slept laid one of my Eagles T-shirts. She wore it? I picked up the shirt and bunched it against my face. Her scent of cinnamon and berries nailed me. I pictured her naked tits scraping along the inside. I remembered how her body melted against mine, and as damn crazy as it sounds, I felt safe and able to take on anything. I’ve shared a bed with both Hadley and Simone before, but last night, she made me feel treasured and worthy, no matter how short-lived.

My hard-on was instant, painful, and desperate, making those I had for my other BFF PG-13. Yet, Simone pushes my buttons with every fucking thing in my life, and her arousing me is always an X-rated experience.

I didn’t wait until I was in the shower. Keeping the shirt close to my face with my left hand, I shoved my right into my pants and jerked off, sitting on the side of my bed, where I imagined I was fucking Simone without a rubber. Goddamn, I need her hot cunt on my dick. Since I was alone in the house, I crowed loud enough to put that bitch Jimmy Don to shame as I shot my wad into my pants, yelling, “Oh, God, Simone!”

Before work, I washed those pants before my mother found them. What a thought.

Candi waves at Simone from the poolroom, and Simone waves back. So far, we’ve ignored and avoided each other when those are the last things I want to do with her.

But her threatening to ditch our marriage, fake or not, rings or no rings, pisses me the fuck off. I didn’t go into this lightly.

Simone reaches for empty glasses on a table, and her skirt rides up. Son of a bitch. I could watch her all damn night.

Harold walks behind me from his vacation to the Bahamas with his grandmother, all bronzed and relaxed. Well, that shit won’t last. He’s still wearing his red Budweiser baseball cap to cover his three strands of hair and a red polo shirt that stretches over his beer gut. It’s like his unofficial uniform.

He smacks me on the back. “Hey, buddy, how’s it going?”

“Awesome,” I mutter as Simone goes to another table to ask if they want refills.

Harold leans his forearms onto the bar between Clive and Jose. He nods to the tables, asking, “I heard we got new blood. How’s she doing?”

“Okay,” I say, shrugging. “Still slow, messes up orders, and doesn’t know most regulars.”

Harold laughs as he watches Simone. “Hell. She’s fucking hot, though. Nice ass. I’d tap that.” And I will cut your throat.

Clive smacks his gums since he lost his dentures a while ago and slurs, “Oh, Jesus. Greg will kill you.”

I smirk at Clive because now most regulars know about Simone and me getting married. I cross my arms. “Yeah, even hotter at the altar.”

Harold screws up his face and looks up at me. “What’s that mean?”

“You don’t know what marriage is?”

He laughs, glancing at Simone again. “Come on. She’s not married. She looks way too young, and she’s not wearing a ring.” Fuck. She is damn young.

Jose sighs as he shoves his glass my way. “Ask her out, then.” No way. Shit. She’ll go just to set me off.

Harold nods as he straightens. “Okay.”

Simone stops at the bar, seeing Harold. She smiles, and I almost forget why I’m mad or that Harold will hit on her. “Hi there. I’m Simone. You must be Harold?”

He sticks out his hand. “I certainly am. I heard we got a new waitress. No one said you were so beautiful.” I grit my teeth to stop myself from breaking his jaw.

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