Page 54 of Stone Rules

I walk toward the locker room as Mason’s words follow me. “I’m really sorry,” he says. “But Charlie, if it’s any consolation, he’s a damn idiot and I don’t mind telling you I let him know it.”

All I can do is nod my head at him. Then I disappear into the locker room and stand under the shower until the tears stop falling.

~ ~ ~

“Here, drink this first,” Piper says, holding out a shot glass full of tequila. “But then put the glass down so you don’t throw it across the room.” She picks up a pillow off the couch and puts it in my lap. “If you need to throw something—throw this.”

I down the shot while staring at my phone on the coffee table in front of me. I know I shouldn’t listen to his messages. I know they will crush me. I should delete them and not give him the satisfaction of having me hear whatever pathetic excuses he’s come up with. But it’s like he said—once you know the cookie is there, it’s hard to ignore. Except it’snota cookie, it’s more like a big roll of cookie dough—you know you will feel like shit after eating it, but it’s too tempting not to eat the whole damn thing anyway.

“Just do it,” I tell Piper, nodding to the phone I don’t even want to touch.

She grabs my hand in hers and then taps on the screen to play the first message.

“Charlie,” he says and then pauses. I close my eyes. The way he says my name says it all. It’s not anything like the way it came off his lips earlier today, when he made my name seem more like a prayer.

Piper squeezes my hand.

“I’m so mad at myself,” he says. “I never should have let that happen today.” Another pregnant pause and I can imagine him running a hand through his hair as he does when he’s frustrated. “I mean, it was great.Youare great. But I can’t let it happen again. I know I’ve said that before and that I’m a dick for leading you on like I have. And the reasons I have for not wanting this are all about me and have nothing to do with you. I hope you believe that, because it’s true. And I’m sorry as hell, because I know I’m hurting you. Shit.” He sighs deeply into the phone. “I really wish you would have answered the phone, because I feel like a bastard leaving you a message like this. But I needed you to know why I won’t be coming to the gym tonight. The only way I know how to keep from hurting you again is to not see you anymore. But I hate leaving things like this, Charlie. Will you call me back and let me know you got this? I’m sorry. I really am. And you deserve better.”

The message ends and I look down at the pillow, not knowing whether to throw it, or use it to muffle my cries.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry,” Piper says. I don’t look at her. I can’t. I know she’s crying. She’s feeling all of my pain as if our hearts were connected by a tether.

My chest heaves and my breathing is ragged as I try to hold it all in. My heart hurts so much I feel it might explode. I reach out and tap the next message, needing to get it all over with.

“Charlie, please call me back. You can yell at me. Call me names. But I need to know you are okay. I still care about you.”

And then the last one.

“Okay, I get that you don’t want to talk to me. But can you at least text me to let me know you’re alright? Please, Charlie. God, I’m so, so sorry. You’ll never know just how much.”

I tap the screen a few times, deleting all three of the messages while my best friend pours us shots of tequila.

I throw back the shot. Then I break down in her arms. She holds me tightly against her as we both let the tears fall. And it takes me a while to realize this is the first time we’ve ever done this. We’ve spent countless nights together. Talking, commiserating, supporting. But we’ve never cried together.Pipernever cried. After what happened on her seventeenth birthday, she vowed to never cry again.

Yet, here we sit, crying and snotting all over each other. She has changed. Mason has changed her. And the thought makes my chest heave even harder. My friend found a man she could trust enough with her heart, with her tears, with her horrible past.

But even though my heart is breaking, I know it was all an illusion. What was I thinking? I can’t be anyone’s girlfriend, fiancée, or wife. It was all a fantasy. Because deep down, I know I could never tell him—never tell anyone—what happened to me. How could a man even look at a woman the way Ethan looked at me today after knowing the things she’d done. Knowing the vile things that were done to her.

No. It’s better this way. I’ve always known that. I just forgot for a little while.

Chapter Twenty-five

True to his word, Ethan didn’t show up at the gym on Tuesday.

Or Wednesday.

Or Thursday.

Or Friday.

Well, he did show up, as I heard through the grapevine, just not whenIwas there.

And all week at work, even though I tried to keep myself from doing it, every time the door to Mitchell’s opened, I’d look over to see if it was Ethan walking through it.

On Saturday, during a bathroom break, I find myself wondering where he’s going for lunch if not here. Did another client walk into his office and take her shirt off? Did he decide to get back with Gretchen? They obviously have some kind of history.

I push up my shirt sleeves to wash my hands and it hits me. He saw my scars. Was he repulsed by them? I think back to the day that seems forever ago even though not a week has passed. No, even after he saw the scars, he still seemed interested.

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