Page 45 of One Billion Reasons

I wait to be sure that Lane is back in the room before I head back. When I push open the heavy wood door, her door is already closed. Her light is on, but I can’t hear any activity. I pause in front of it. I should apologize. But for what? I know this was the right choice. I can’t have a fling with Lane and a friendship later. I lean my head against the wood. “I’m sorry,” I breathe. “Please don’t hate me.”

I pour myself a finger of whiskey. The heat of it feels good going down and I quickly drink two more and sink into the velvet armchair. I tip my head back against the seat and shut my eyes. Mistake. I can see Lane behind my lids, her dress bunched around her waist, her mouth soft with want. She’s writhing over me, and in my imagination, I’m able to press her over my cock, and somehow I’m naked and she’s hot and wet and oh, fuck—one pass of my hand over my erection and I’m going to come in my pants. She’s definitely going to hear me. I leap up and press my hands to my eyes. I need to distract myself. It’s time to call in reinforcements.

I definitely can’t talk to Liam, and Jonah is obsessed with his revenge on the paparazzi. Besides, Jonah would just tell me to fuck Lane and forget her, which seems impossible. So Jason it is. Even though he’s probably in bed with his hot girlfriend.

I don’t want Lane to hear any of this, so I step out into the hall before hitting his number. I pace until he answers.

“You’re calling me from halfway across the world? Did something bad happen?” Jason sounds almost relaxed.

“Yeah, man. Sorry to bother you. How’s the trip?”

“Well. Cynthia is currently attempting to fish for our dinner, so I’m probably going hungry tonight.” He gives a fond little laugh. “So what’s up with you? How’s Montauk?”

“I fucked up, Jason.”

“What happened?” He’s all business now.

“I came way too close to sleeping with Lane.”

“You’re kidding me. You and Lane? I thought you hated each other.”

“We did. We do. She did.” I rub my face. “I don’t know if she still does. We kissed, and she wanted more. But I stopped her, and now she hates me. Again.” My words are low and urgent. This is a mess.

“What did she say?”

“That she gets to decide who breaks her heart.” I sigh heavily. “I told her we couldn’t sleep together because I would hurt her.”

Jason barks a laugh. “She’s definitely going to hate you then. You realize you sound like a jackass, right?”

“I know. I feel like a jackass. But what the hell am I supposed to do? If I give in and sleep with her, the inevitable end means she hates me forever. She only just agreed to come to Thanksgiving. Which means Liam too.”

“But what if it doesn’t end?” Jason asks quietly.

“I’ve never— It’s always ended,” I finish lamely. “I’ve never made it work. I don’t think I know how.”

“Have you ever tried?”

“Once. After Lane stopped speaking to me. You remember Melanie?”

“You call that trying?” Jason’s amusement is clear through the phone.

“Oh, fuck off. What are you? Some kind of love guru?”

“She told you she loved you and you said thank you.” He sounds incredulous. “Even I never did that.”

“Well, I didn’t love her. I don’t want love.” I leave out the part about how I couldn’t sleep with her without picturing Lane’s face behind my closed lids.

He’s silent for a second. “That’s something you’re going to have to figure out, then. I don’t recommend fucking Lane and forgetting her. So don’t call Jonah for advice.”

Before I can respond, Cynthia makes a faint comment and Jason responds, “Yeah, I know. He’s hooking up with his best friend’s sister.” A pause. “Yep. All my friends are stupid.”

He chuckles over the connection. “She says, what were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking.” I shove a hand through my hair and tug on the strands as if that can force some sense into me. “She’s so hot. And…” I swallow. “I’ve wanted her for so long. So fucking long.” I groan and sink onto the floor while Jason is silent.

“So it’s like that, is it?” His question is quiet. I don’t respond. I’m too twisted up to answer. “But maybe you should talk to her. Instead of doing what you normally do.”

“What do I normally do?”

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