I crossed my arms over my chest and glanced past her to her apartment. Number twelve. I made a mental note. I’d never been awkward with women before but now I was. There was a wall between us that I hated. I wanted to be close to her, like we were when we were having sex. There was an intimacy with her I craved. I had been missing that connection and I didn’t even realize it until Olivia.

Yet, it wasn’t real. It wasn’t anything.

I leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss. “See you around. Now go inside. I’m not leaving until you lock this door.”

Her mouth opened and she was about to speak, but then she clamped it shut. She went in to her apartment and slammed the door behind her. I heard the dead bolt.

So I left.

In the car, seeing the bag with the bandages infuriated me. It illuminated that she was a good person, caring, kind. She had been worried about me. I didn’t need that. I didn’t want that. I didn’t deserve that.

I rolled down the passenger window and chucked the whole bag out onto the concrete. Fuck the medical tape.

I’d bleed and I would live.

Alone, the way I always had.

I leaned against my door and fought the tears that had been threatening me all day. I was raw, emotional. I felt like I needed to sleep for at least twelve hours, but I knew if I tried to lie down I’d never be able to rest. My mind was racing too fast. Glancing out the window, I saw Wester throw the bag I had bought at the drugstore out the window. Shocked, I gasped out loud.

“Asshole,” I whispered. Obviously he was just too damned tough to require antibacterial cream or a freaking bandage. I hoped he got a raging infection. It would serve him right.

He wasn’t my type. There was no way he should or could be my type. Yet, I couldn’t resist him. I had zero resolve against him. Which was why I never ever wanted to see him again. If I did, I would have sex with him and then I would attach and then he would break my heart. Hell, I had already attached.

Dropping my bag on the floor of the living room, I called my sister.

“Hello?”

“Are you okay?” I asked, that being my first concern.

“I’m fine. How are you?”

“Fine.” That might be overstating, but I’d recover. Now that we were both reassured, it was time to get real. “Do you understand that you’re married to a complete raging asshole?” I demanded. “And did you know he is involved in illegal drug deals?”

“Shush, Livvy! You can’t say stuff like that on the phone.”

Oh, really? That made my suspicions go sky high. “And how would you know about that, precisely?”

“CSI.”

That was bullshit. Eva didn’t watch crime shows. They scared her. “Did you or did you not know that shit was going down?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice was ridiculously coy. Eva couldn’t lie her way out of a paper bag. “So what’s going on with you and Wester, hmm?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I didn’t. Not with anyone. I didn’t even want to think about it, because it made no sense that I gave a shit at all about him. He acted like a complete jerk. Talk about a commitment-phobe. I wasn’t even asking him for anything and he still worked incredibly hard to shove me away.

What irritated me the most though was that I wanted to see more of the real Wester. The Wester who was strong and interesting and loyal. Not the one who dropped lines like a DJ spins records, each one glossing over the one before.

“Sounds like you like him,” Eva said in a sing-song voice.

My sister was annoying me. “Eva. This isn’t high school. This isn’t cute. I was in danger. Wester got shot.”

“Olivia! You cannot talk about that on the phone.” Her voice grew sharp.

I knew then Eva had known about Ricardo’s illegal business dealings. The fact that she would be okay with that was stunning. That she wouldn’t share with me? Incomprehensible. We told each other everything. She relied on me for advice, for guidance. I was always her sounding board.

But not now. She had replaced me as her confidant with her worthless husband.

It made me deeply sad. Yet at the same time, I knew I had no intention of telling her anything about what had gone down between Wester and I. That was too private, too personal. Embarrassing. Special.