Page 76 of When The Rain Falls

Her comments knock me unsteady for some reason. That bold admiration. The high expectation. It drops me like an anchor to reality.

Things felt good with Nicole, too. Until they didn’t.

What’s wrong with it?I hear Nicole say. I remember the way she looked at me. The things I assume that she thought about me. And then the way things ended. The nausea, the embarrassment, the shame. The leaving. All these thoughts are leaking into my head as Aimee stares at me like I’m some kind of fucking sex god. The higher she builds me up, the farther I have to fall if something goes wrong tonight.

Things with Aimee are different from things with Nicole in one critical way. I desperately want to keep her. And if I want to keep her.Thishas to work. It has to.

I tell myself nothing will go wrong as I steal a desperate, pleading kiss from her mouth.

I tell myself nothing will go wrong as I settle back between her legs.

I tell myself nothing will go wrong as I roll my hips against her body.

And then I pause. For a moment. To collect myself. To overthink. Like I always do.

“Bear, what’s wrong?” Aimee cries.

But all I hear is,what’s wrong with it?

And then I have a mental image of myself jumping. But there’s no water below me. And I’m just falling. Something tightens in my chest. The air suddenly seems thicker. Harder to breathe in.

Aimee releases a moan of anticipation and it's too much pressure. Sweat beads along my forehead as a deep chill creeps under my skin. I feel myself losing control. I feel the blood rush from my dick. I feel myself growing soft.

Fuck.

The second I realize it’s happening, I pull back. Jump away. I untangle her hands from my body, face away, and tug my pants back up, nearly tripping in the process. What the hell have I done? What am I doing with her? This was never going to end well. I’m such a fucking idiot. Fucking. Idiot.

Aimee sits up and clutches her arms to her chest in shock.

“Bear, what are you doing? Where are you going?” Aimee’s entire body is covered in a sexy, pink flush.

And what the hell do I say?

I rub my hand against the back of my head and turn away from her, standing stoically in place. I have the strongest urge to pace. But I don’t want Aimee to see what has become of the front of my body. So I don’t move a muscle. One thing is clear to me. I’m not telling her the truth. I don’t have it in me to face rejection. I don’t have it in me to face the look of disgust and disappointment that will fall across her beautiful face. I’d rather push her away than have her decide to walk away. To leave me. To abandon me. Because I’m not fuckingmanenough.

I have to end this now. And then I’ll forget about her. I’ll nurse my wounds. Nurse whatever mini heartache might follow.Put my wall back up. The same walls I never should have let down in the first place. And then I’ll move on with my fucking miserable life like this never happened.

“Bear? What’s going on?” she asks again.

“This was a mistake,” I snarl, my back still to her. I can’t look at her. Not now. I can’t look her in the eyes as I lie to her.

“The only mistake I can see is you standing so far away.” Her voice is tender and soft, and I want to pick her up and curl her into a hug. Dammit. She’s going to make this so difficult.

“Don’t you get it?” I say as harshly as my voice will allow. “This. All of this. It was a big, fucking mistake, Aimee.”

“A mistake?” The tenderness in her voice is replaced with hurt and confusion. And questions. So many questions. “Bear, what? How can you say that? It didn’t feel like a mistake,” she scolds. “Finn. You can’t touch me like that and say it was a mistake.”

“Aimee, I have to tell you,” I lie. “I can’t keep doing this to you.”

“Tell me what?”

“I was thinking about Laurel,” I say quickly before I change my mind or chicken out. “The whole time. I wasn’t touching you. I was touching her.” EvenIwince at those words. So harsh. So untrue. But it’s what I need to say to protect myself.

The silence that follows destroys me. It sounds like unshed tears. Disbelief. And mind-numbing confusion.

When she doesn’t say anything, the need to look at her grows unbearable. I turn slowly. She’s standing now. On my deck, arms crossed under the swell of her dainty breasts, her hair a tangle of tendrils swirling around her face, mussed from my touch. Her whole body kissed by moonlight. And her eyes. Absolutely crushed.

“Fuck you,” she spits out, her words venom. She spins on her heels, slamming the sliding door behind her. Shattering me into a thousand cold, sharp pieces.

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