Page 63 of Utah

“Because we know you, and there’s something off.”

“Just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

Renner narrowed his eyes and studied me. Then he jerked his chin forward, as if releasing me from his presence.

“Fucker,” I mumbled.

“I heard that,” he shouted, and I couldn’t help the grin that crawled onto my face.

The drive to Ria’s house didn’t take long, as there was minimal traffic this morning. But when I arrived in her driveway, I stole an extra minute before getting out. Right now, I felt several things:

Remorse.

Apologetic.

Fear.

What I didn’t feel in the present moment, which was sure to change once a certain topic was broached, was anger. We’d inevitably have to talk about the kiss, and when that time came, I’d have to remain calm. Or as calm as I could. I had to prove to Ria that I could be rational so she could trust I’d never put her in that situation again. I had to prove it to myself.

Several people have commented on me seeming “off.” I dismissed their concerns, blaming Crash’s death, me being stabbed, and the shit show with the cartel. But the truth was, I didn’t feel exactly like myself recently.

Before I could knock, she swung open the door, her eyes roaming over me from head to toe. She was dressed in gray yoga pants and a white tank top, her blonde hair piled on top of her head. She looked exhausted, but I couldn’t blame her. I was too.

No words were exchanged as she stepped aside to allow me to enter. Two mugs sat on top of the coffee table, and the blanket that was usually strewn over the back of the sofa was crumpled in the corner of the couch.

“Why didn’t you call me last night when you got out?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest. The gesture pushed her tits higher, but now was not the time to stare.

“Because I wanted to give you your space.” My answer was partially true.

A heavy cloak of embarrassment fell over me as I stared at her. Disappointment radiated behind her eyes, and the soft tremble of her chin was like a dagger to my fucking soul.

I erased the space between us and reached for her hands, but she stepped away, shaking her head.

“Don’t.”

The dagger twisted deeper.

“I’m so sorry for scaring you like that. I didn’t mean—”

“Why did you attack him like that?” she asked, retreating until her back rested against the wall. She dropped her arms to her sides, her nails biting into her palms over and over.

“Why didn’t you tell me he kissed you?” A flutter of anger coursed through me, but I tamped it down as best I could.

“I wonder,” she answered sarcastically. “Maybe because you would’ve reacted exactly like you did.”

Refusing to confirm her accusation, I narrowed in on the details of what happened.

“When did he kiss you? How long was it? Did you kiss him back?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer to the last question because the thought of Ria wanting to kiss anyone else killed me.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

I counted my breaths and retreated across the room, giving us both the space we needed.

“We need to talk about this.” When she remained silent, I forged ahead, trying to convince her. “The worst already happened, Ria. I went nuts. I recognize that. But I need to know what happened between you and him. For my own sanity.”

Still, she remained quiet, and for as much as I wanted to demand that she give me answers, I held my tongue. I began pacing but then thought perhaps my walking back and forth would only increase the tension in the room, so I took a seat at the far end of the couch.

Ria followed and sat at the other end of the sofa. Our eyes held for a beat before she finally spoke.

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