Page 167 of Come Break My Heart Again

“You too,” I reply. I aim a forced smile at the teenager, then head for the automatic doors.

Ryder’s footsteps follow me in an ominous rhythm.

As soon as we’re outside, I expect him to say something. But he’s silent as I set the plastic bag in the back seat and then climb into the driver’s side. When I turn on the car and snap my seat belt into place.

It’s not until the car’s headlights are sweeping the dark, sand-lined road that he speaks.

“You didn’t want to take any chances?”

“I’m not on birth control.”

Another long beat of silence follows. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, forcing my eyes to remain on the street ahead.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally asks.

“I thought you’d freak out.”

“No. Before.”

Because I wanted it. Because I needed it. Because rational thoughts disappear when he’s touching me. It didn’t even occur to me we’d had unprotected sex until I felt his cum dripping out of me.

I can’t say any of that.

“Got caught up in the moment, I guess.”

Ryder’s hands form fists in his lap, and I don’t think I’m the only one who recognizes those words from our breakup.

I couldn’t tell he was lying then. And I can’t tell if he believes me now.

“I’m sorry, Elle. I should have … asked.”

I close my eyes for as long as I dare to while driving. I hate his apologies. They’re just empty words, following broken promises.

He might as well have just said he regrets having sex with me.

“There’s no chance I gave you anything,” he tells me. “Just so you know.”

I nod.

Neither of us says anything else for the rest of the drive. Or for most of dinner.

34

Ioverslept. I realize it as soon as my eyes open. It’s too loud downstairs.

Shit, is my second thought.

This was not the morning to sleep in. This was the morning to get up early, exercise Elle’s dog for her, and be waiting with a cup of coffee when she got up.

I scramble out of bed, using the bathroom and then getting dressed as fast as humanly possible. I’m already on my way toward the stairs when I remember to swerve back around and head to my room where I slept last night. There’s a bed shortage tonight with all the extra guests Keira and Tucker invited. Reese and Knox are taking my room tonight.

I move my stuff to the small office down the hall, then finally make it downstairs.

“Morning, man,” Tuck greets. He’s standing at the stove, flipping bacon.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Mario, one of the guys from Tuck’s crew, calls from his spot at the kitchen table.

Bowen, one of the painters, is seated across from him. Tucker invited every guy who works for him, but they were the only two—aside from me—who accepted.

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