Page 12 of Her Filthy Mistake

But it all went up in smoke before it began, and it’s all my fault. I was the one who spent all those years chasing a dream I couldn’t reach. I was the one who did coke and drank to wash down the pain of rejection. There’s no one else to blame but myself.

When I don’t speak, her eyes narrow into slits. “Why aren’t you dating anyone?”

“I’ve not found someone I’m interested in spending the rest of my life with.” It’s partly the truth. No one else holds my attention.

“Because of her.”

“Who?”

“Samantha.”

“No.” Lord, when was the last time I thought about Samantha? Three years? Four? It’s been forever. We were never good together. We were toxic and dramatic. Fighting. Making up. Accusing each other of cheating.

I never did but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t dreaming of Zoe and wishing life was different. Even then, I was obsessed with her. Samantha sensed the shift in my interest the second I came back from a family visit after Zoe turned 18 and went out of her way to get back at me. By stealing our bassist and convincing him to leave the band.

“Whatever.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder, exposing the silken flesh of her neck, and I want to bury my face there and devour her. Take in her scent. Lose myself in something good for once.

“I haven’t seen her in four years, and I’m not pining away for her.” I lift the glass of water and sip the ice-cold drink, letting it soothe my nerves. I’d rather have whiskey, but when I went to rehab, I stopped both alcohol and drugs. I’d rather have a clear mind when facing life.

“Then why aren’t you seeing anyone?”

“Again, I’ve not found anyone that I’m interested in, and my focus has been on my recovery. When I went to rehab, they recommended I go two years without a relationship, and I’m glad I did. It gave me time to find out who I am and gave me a strong foundation for my future.”

She blinks and swallows hard. “Shit. I’m sorry I was acting like a bitch.” She places her fingers on my forearm, and heat surges inside of me. “I’m glad you went to rehab. That was brave of you.” Her gaze darts to her empty wine glass. “I’m sorry I was drinking in front of you.”

“Don’t worry about drinking in front of me. It’s not a big deal. I work in a nightclub, so I’m around people who drink every day.” I swallow over the lump in my throat. “Thank you. I….” I did it for you. The words need to remain unsaid. I clear my throat. “I’m in a better place now.”

“How can you be in a better place if you aren’t singing?”

“Singing wasn’t going anywhere, and I was wasting my life. I’m happier now.”

“Are you?” The question in her eyes makes my gut cramp. Am I happier? If I go back to singing, will it lead back to drugs? To partying? To toxic relationships? To a lack of purpose? I don’t want those things.

“Yes.” I clasp her hand and hold it inside of mine. “I’m happier without it. I have a steady job, and my team looks up to me. I’m in a good place.”

“Okay.” She smiles weakly. “Then, I’m happy for you. I can’t be mad because the world is missing your voice when it’s not the best thing for you.”

“Zoe?” Zayden’s voice interrupts our conversation, and my heart skips a beat. I scoot my chair back to put additional distance between us. Being close to her has me forgetting that I can’t have her.

“Yes?” She blinks, drops her hand to her side, and looks over at her brother.

“We need to talk.”

“Okay.” She stands and disappears with Zayden.

Shit. Did it look like we were…. I need to stay in control. No more moments of raw intimacy.

Chapter Six

Zoe

The stars twinkle above us as a moonbeam lights our path. The temperature is perfect. And the waves crashing in the distance make me want to curl up on the beach and sleep. Or maybe that’s the wine I drank. Anything is better than hanging all over Jace like a lost puppy begging for scraps.

Yes, we had a decent conversation, but that doesn’t mean anything. We’ve had several deep conversations over the years, and all I got was a door slammed in my face. A proverbial door. It’s not like he smacked me in the face with a wooden object. But the results were still the same. He thought I was an immature kid who had a crush on him, an unwanted crush that embarrassed him and made him feel sorry for me.

No more. That’s not happening again. I must steel my resolve around him before I do something stupid and end up a weeping mess again.

I rush to catch up as my brother strides along the sidewalk toward our bungalow. “You said you needed to talk, so spill it.”

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