Page 31 of Botched

He rolls his eyes. “Youare impossible.” His arm is still wrapped around me, and he pulls me against his side a little closer. “Because I wanted to. Because I was drunk and the other girl was sexy and Iwanted to fuck her. Because I was forcing myself to be with Veronica because that’s what everyone expected. I wasn’t happy. I was fucking tired of her bitching all the time. I wasn’t home enough. She needed more from me. More time, more money.More. I got tired of fuckin’ giving.”

It sounds like Veronica was using him. It sounds like his mom uses him. Does anyone givehimanything? But pushing for more information feels like a slippery slope with Theo. I worry if I push further, the wall will go up completely.

“At least you’re honest,” I murmur.

He tilts his head as he looks down at me. His fingers lazily run through my hair again, twirling a strand around his index finger as we recline on the bed. Rain is pouring outside, slapping against the window, sounding like machine gun fire.

He’s a wonderful distraction.

“Let me guess, you want a way to justify the monster,” he says, his voice soft. “You want to be able to say, ‘Theo isn’t so bad,’ but that’s the thing—I am. What you see is what you get with me.”

The softness of his voice screams honesty. This is Theo being completely honest with me. It should push me away more, I know that. So, why is this breaking down the walls between the two of us?

Maybe in the end, the truth is all that matters.

A crash of lightning strikes somewhere closer, lighting up the night sky. The loud noise that follows sends me practically on top of Theo. His arms tighten around me even more. I don’t fight it. I close my eyes and bury myself against him, breathing in all the safety and comfort that I can.

He doesn’t make a comment about my body on top of his. Surprisingly. His fingers continue to run through my hair. “Why are you so scared of storms?” Theo asks.

It’s my turn to face the truth. I can either lie to him or be as honest as he was with me. “A year ago, we had this really bad storm back home. I’ve always disliked them, but it was never a fear, youknow? Anyway, I was going over to my dad’s. I tried to visit as much as possible after my stepmom died. I didn’t like him being alone. I get there and knock. No answer. I knock again. No answer. There was no reason for himnotto answer. Dad always called if something came up. Since the door was unlocked, I let myself in. That’s when I found my dad in the living room. He had a stroke.”

“Is he—”

“He survived,” I answer. My eyes focus on a spot on the hotel wall as I lay my head against his chest. There’s a little chip in the eggshell-colored paint. Not looking at Theo makes this conversation so much easier. “He’s still in rehab. He hasn’t regained his speech.”

“Janet’s his nurse,” Theo murmurs as he puts the pieces together.

“Yeah. Even if he can’t talk, he’s still in there somewhere. I wanted him to see my big moment. I think he liked it,” I laugh softly, clinging to that instead of the sadness that the memory fills me with. “I don’t know, but Janet said that he watched the whole thing. Didn’t even go to bed early.”

It’s not the same, though. I wish he could’ve been able to be there in person. I know Dad. He would’ve been front row, screaming his head off for me, even as the rest of the crowd booed. He’d be my number one fan.

I swallow back emotions so I don’t cry in front of Theo, letting my gaze zone in on that chip in the paint on the wall. I won’t cry. I can’t.

Chapter Twenty-Two

THEODORE

Idon’t often find myself speechless. Talking is something that I’mverygood at, whether it’s running my mouth, cutting a promo, or saying the wrong thing. In this situation, saying the wrong thing isn’t an option. Believe it or not, I have tact. I’m not going to say something out of pocket in response to Aurora opening up to me about her father.

“I’m sorry, baby doll,” I murmur, stroking her hair still. It feels like silk. She’s so damn soft.

I don’t mind this.

Ask Veronica—I’ve never been much of a cuddler. I’d do it because that’s what’s expected of me, but I’ve never really gotten it. It’s always felt like a way to overheat and have your arms fall asleep. Aurora on my chest makes me understand the appeal a little bit more.

“It’s, well…it’s not okay,” she says with a bitter laugh. “But it has to be because there’s nothing else I can do. I’m paying for the best rehab that I can afford. My plan is—”

I interrupt her. “You’re paying for it?”

She nods.

Aurora is funding her father’s care all by herself. That bothers me. I can’t exactly explain why, but it does. I don’t like the idea of her dealing with all the stress alone. It can’t be good for her. I want to help, but if I know anything about my favorite redhead, she won’t outright accept my help.

I’ll figure it out.

“I’m sorry you’re dealing with this,” I say and genuinely mean it.

We lay there together for a little bit longer. Every loud crash of thunder or crack of lightning has her body pressing closer to me. Her body’s half on top of mine, and I’m hoping my dick doesn’t poke her in the thigh. It’s a natural reaction to having the girl of all my fantasies lying on top of me, wiggling against me.

---