Page 65 of Eight Steps to Alpha

He glanced down her body, over her robe that was so tight she could barely breathe.

“Go ahead,” he said softly.

“I just—” she stammered out. “I wanted to apologize.”

He glanced down to his book again, dismissing her. “It’s over. There’s no need to apologize now.”

She shook her head, not wanting him to let her off that easy. Not wanting him to be nice to her after what she’d done to him. “No.” She shook her head. “I need to explain. I need to tell you what happened.”

He looked up, his face showing how hurt he was.

“Please let me,” she whispered. “Please.”

He removed his glasses, as though they caused him immense pain and set them on the table. He took a breath, closed his book, and peered up at her. Like a perfect storm, his eyes showed the twisting and twirling that was going on inside him.

Now was her moment. To say all she needed to say, but she couldn’t. So many things were running through her head that she couldn’t think straight. “I—I don’t know what’s happening. That wasn’t me.” She waved a hand behind her to the bathroom, where she’d washed off her makeup less than five minutes ago. “That—wasn’t me.”

She shook her head, fighting against the tears climbing up the back of her throat. She was trying to keep some humility. To maintain her integrity and keep her voice from wobbling but it wasn’t working. “I don’t know if I got caught up in the moment, or too caught up with this stupid plan, but I’m so sorry.”

Her chin was wobbling, and all she wanted to do was grab hold of it and make it stop, but she didn’t. She allowed him to see how scared she was. How much the fact she’d hurt him shook her. Because he deserved that. At the very least. “I think it needs to stop. All of it.”

His eyes narrowed, as though he was having a hard time understanding what she was trying to tell him. “What needs to stop?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a breath. “The steps. The eight steps. If it wasn’t—“ Her words silenced, and she glanced up at him again. “It was the stupidest idea I’ve ever had.”

He tilted his head, analyzing her with narrowed eyes. “I’m not sure it was the stupidest.”

There was the tiniest bit of teasing in his voice, and it was like music to her ears. “It was, Elliot. It is. And I’m afraid if we continue, I’ll lose my best friend.”

He pushed himself to the edge of the bed, threw his pillow to the ground, and pulled her into his arms. “You won’t lose me, Fe. Shit, how could you even say that?”

“How can you be so sure?” Her body was shaking, but she wrapped her arms around him, and took the comfort he offered her.

“Because I’m right here. And I’ll always be here.” His voice was raw, textured, and she could feel it in her gut.

“That’s not true.” She pressed the side of her face against his chest, allowing herself to feel his heart pounding against her cheek. “People always say that, but it’s not true. There comes a point in every relationship when there are too many wounds. Wounds that turn into scars that Band-Aids won’t fix anymore. And we’ve been fighting so much lately, about things we would have never fought about before. I’m afraid that if we continue…” She wiped over her nose, then pushed away from him just enough to allow herself a view of his face. His eyes were open, bright, studying here like he had no idea where all this was coming from.

“I think the best thing to do is to stop. My brothers will understand if I cancel. I’ll just say something came up—it’ll be better that way—things will get better—“

He pressed one finger to her lips, stopping her. “What?” He paused for a moment, as though her words were still processing through his mind. “Why were your brother’s expecting us?”

She swallowed. “Football.”

“Football?”

“It’s the eighth step.” She shook her head, and wrapped her arms around her body again. “But like I said, I’m going to cancel. Mary will be back in ten days, and most girls don’t like football anyway.”

A frown transformed his features, but he looked more relaxed when he lifted his shoulder. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to play football.”

She laughed. “No, no you have not. No.”

“Sure I have.” He flashed her one of his adorable grins. “Ever since I was a little boy.”

“Elliot.” She closed her eyes. “We can’t.”

He grabbed hold of her arms, squeezing them until she opened her eyes again. “Come on. You’ve never been a quitter. Why start now?”

He was trying to make her feel better, to ease her guilt for tonight…and sure enough, it was working. “Elliot, I’m trying to be serious.”

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