Page 78 of Repairing the Wreckage

And oh, how I’d love to get even with Griff by sleeping with one of his friends. But Torch—despite his road name—doesn’t set me on fire. My feelings for him are warm. Friendly. Maybe they could be more—one day.

I’m not in a hurry to have my heart broken again, though.

“But it’s pretty clear your heart’s still in Griff’s hands,” he finishes in a gentle, patient tone.

Misery threatens to swallow me whole. Why can’t I get over my boyfriend like a normal person? Who the heck ends up with their first boyfriend forever, anyway? Breaking up was inevitable. Why can’t I just move on?

“I don’t want it to be.” At least that’s true. I don’t want to feel so torn in two. I don’t want to have the urge to jump into Griff’s arms the second I see him.

I don’t want to hurt anymore.

Torch inhales a long, slow breath. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” he mutters.

My heartbeat thuds in my ears. “Say what?”

“Look,” he continues in a more confident voice, “I didn’t watch the show myself. I hate reality TV. But I’ve known Griff for years.” His lips quirk into a wry hint of a smile. “Even in our little morally gray circle, he’s known for his fairness and honesty.”

Morally gray circle. What a way to describe my brother’s friends.

Torch shakes his head. “Any idiot can see how much he loves you. Even me. Even though I don’t want to.” He inhales another slow breath. “Are you sure you saw what you think you saw?”

I stare at him, slack-jawed. Anger simmers in my chest. Does he think I’m stupid? “The whole world saw it, Torch.”

“What I mean is are you sure it wasn’t a trick of the show?” He grips the steering wheel and drums his fingers against it.

“It’s not just the…” I swallow hard. “It’s not that he cheated on me. On television.”

He clucks his tongue. “Shit, that’s brutal.”

“No kidding,” I snap, then soften my tone. “It’s not just that. It’s other stuff too.”

Stuff I can’t even figure out how to put into words myself, so please don’t ask.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Molly

Well, that was awkward.

I quietly close the door behind me until it clicks shut. The rumble of Torch’s engine increases then slowly fades away. I press my hand against my chest. Why did that talk, hell, the whole night, leave a heaviness clinging to me like heavy chains wrapped around my body?

Low, murmuring voices come from the kitchen. Great, does Remy have someone over? Probably a girl he picked up at the track. There were enough of them crawling around tonight looking for a hookup.

I should run straight to my room, but I’m thirsty. Besides, this is still my house. I cock my head, listening. Sounds like another guy. Eraser maybe? I hang my bunny mask on a hook by the door, unlace my boots and yank them off. In my stockinged feet, I slide my way into the kitchen.

At the threshold, I skid to a stop. My hand shoots out and hits the wall.

Griff.

In my kitchen.

With my brother.

Casually leaning against the counter like he’s done so many times before.

As if he hasn’t messed up my night—my life—enough.

“Why are you here?” I blurt, harsher than I meant.

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