Page 62 of Deceit

With our kiss, he hints that he may be searching for something between us, and I think he found it because his actions quicken for a beat before we’re both exhaling heavy bits of air between each other.

“Fuck the forty-eight-hour rule,” he mutters with another graze of his lips. “I’ll text you tomorrow, Emmy. Good night.”

I swallow as he looks down at me. “Night.”

Picking my keys out of my hands, he unlocks my door and gives me a little push inside before handing them back over.

And with a quirk of his mouth, Alexander takes off down my small porch with a confident pep in his step, leaving behind a slight bit of hope that my life won’t forever be so lonely.

“She needs to go,” Kyson rants, not-so-quietly again for the millionth time. He begins to pace the gravel in front of my trailer, kicking the small rocks and looking frustrated and all sorts of pissed off. “We’re not doing this repeatedly.”

“Doing what exactly?” Mills chimes in before taking a bite of his breakfast sandwich, not hiding the fact that he’s highly interested in this conversation. “The blonde, right?”

It’s been four days since Cam stepped foot in my life after I picked her up, and Kyson willnotdrop that she’s around. He’s acting like she and I are playing house, and she cooks, cleans, and irons my clothes for me.

And to be completely honest, I almost forgot for a second that she was even here because my brain has been on Emmy nonstop since she left.

Because you told her to leave.

Repeatedly.

“Bish,” Kyson continues, his tone lightening as though that’s going to get me to listen and take action on what he says immediately. Obviously, I haven’t, she’s still here. “We can get her into a facility, the best one. However, she’s gonna have to do this shit on her own.”

“Ohhhh.” The reality and truth all of a sudden comes tumbling down on Mills as he feels the need to publicly announce everything like he’s a commentator. “She’s addicted to the white shit.”

My jaw ticks at the exact moment Marty’s hand crashes over the back of Mills’s head, saving me the trouble.

“Would you shut the fuck up,” he sneers next to him. “Put two and two together.”

“That makes four,” Mills replies. “And with the four of us, we shouldn’t be standing here bitching about a blonde.”

“Emmy will be back tonight. She’ll have what we need.” My heart races at her name, and the empty pit of my stomach starts to ache again.

I should be used to this.

Emmy and I don’t play house anymore. We dothis.

She’s been doing her thing—I may or may not have been checking her Instagram—and I’ve been…ignoring everything. I can’t deal with Camilla being back, taking care of Hardy and Scarlett, then my mixed bullshit with how I feel about Emmy all at the same time.

I feel like I’m about to explode at any minute now. My brain can’t handle any more rabid emotions coursing through it, and I’m tired of thinking about everyone.

I need stronger weed.

“She’s not coming.” Kyson’s blunt statement immediately pisses me off. And of course, he’d know because Emmy and him talk all the time.

In fact, she talks toallof them all the time minus Blue, of course.

Emmy’s relationship with Mills, Marty, and Kyson is rock-solid. Nothing in this world could break it up. Blue is another story that we all know, and then we have me.

The husband who treats her like an estranged intruder that doesn’t belong anywhere near me.

My jaw tightens as a scoff rolls off my lips, gaining the attention of everyone.

Marty sends a murky glower in my direction. “I wonder why.”

I perk a brow. “Just because you two are butt buddies, doesn’t mean I need her involved inmyshit,” I retort. “She couldn’t even get your crap together and right with Montgomery.”

Marty’s expression darkens at the mention of his fiasco and how I’m blaming it all on her. When really it was an honest mistake. Human error.

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