Page 39 of Last Boy

Her brows furrow. “Oh, um…the bill was taken care of.”

“No”—I shake my head—“it wasn’t.”

Walking to the computer, she hits a few keys. “It’s paid in full, Ms. Wilson.”

“Come on,” Walker says, picking up the box.

For a moment, I’m frozen. And then it hits me.

Walker did this.

He did this and didn’t even tell me.

Walker

“Why would you do that?” Poppy asks as I pull out of the parking lot after picking Van’s ashes up.

“Do what?” I play dumb, knowing this could go one of two ways.

One, she’ll be completely pissed that I paid for Van to be cremated. Or, two, she’ll appreciate it. I know she’s completely broke, and the thought of her spending every cent she’d made to pay for her brother’s death gutted me. I couldn’t let it happen, especially when I have an uncle who gave me a credit card for emergencies. And to him, the money it cost for Van’s cremation is pocket change.

“You heard me on the phone, didn’t you?” She scowls from the passenger side. Before I can answer, she throws her head back against the headrest. “Damn it, Walker. Why do you keep doing nice things?”

I glance over at her. Her jaw is tense, and her breathing is sharp.

“Because I want to.”

Her eyes fly back to mine. “Because you want to?” She shakes her head. “And how long will you want to before you take off again? Huh?”

“Would you just stop?” I say, continuing to drive. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me!” she yells. “You know what? Pull over!”

“What? No,” I say, seeing her hand resting on the door handle.

“Pull. Over,” she growls.

“Oh my fucking word! You’re such a pain in the ass!” I roar, tearing into an empty parking lot. “Just be a normal fucking person and say, Thank you, Walker, and move along!”

When I slam my truck into park, she starts to push the door open, but I reach over, gripping her chin.

“Just let me do something nice for you, for fuck’s sake!”

“You did nice shit before, Walker!” Her eyes are wild, and as she sucks in deep breaths, her tits strain against her T-shirt. “You were always doing nice shit. And guess what. You still left. No, wait. You made me out to be an awful human being, and then you left.”

“I was just fucking upset that my parents were dead!” I bark. “I didn’t mean to fuck everything up, Poppy. Fuck!”

“You give things. You give me hope,” she whispers, her eyebrows pulling together. “And all these nice things you’re doing…they will only make it worse when you leave again.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “Just be an asshole. An indifferent dick, like you were when you left me on the sidewalk that day.” She sucks in a breath, her throat making a squeaking noise as a tear rolls down her cheek. “That’ll make it hurt less when you leave again.”

I glare over at her before I yank her body on top of mine. Gliding my hand up her cheek and tangling it into her hair, I bring her lips to mine. She kisses me back, grinding her pussy on the hardening bulge through my sweatpants.

When I move my lips to her neck, I watch her nipples pebble through her white shirt, making my cock even harder. Sliding my hands to her hips, I shove her against my dick, feeling how hot she is through the fabric of her leggings.

All at once, it’s like I remember that we have her brother’s ashes in the backseat of my truck. And if it wasn’t bad enough that we did what we did the night he died, this seems worse.

Pulling back, I move my hands to her arms. “We should…we should get your brother to where he’s going,” I say and watch her cheeks grow red. Embarrassment fills her entire face as she begins to scurry off of me.

“It’s not that I don’t want you,” I groan, tightening my hold on her arms, keeping her on my lap. “You’re all I fucking want right now.” I cringe. “But not like this. Not right now.”

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