Page 22 of His Secret Obsession

“You’re wearing my jacket,” he murmurs.

A flush creeps up my neck, and my heart stumbles. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought it was Luke’s.” I rush to pull the soft fabric off me, but his hand reaches out. It gently circles my wrist as he chuckles and shakes his head. He gives me a sideways glance.

“Wear it. It looks good on you.” The husky rumble of his voice sends a shot of adrenaline through me.

I swallow. “Okay. Thanks.”

There’s a moment of awkward tension between us where we both avert our eyes, and I wonder if he’s going to bring up the incident. He’s probably going to tell me it was a mistake and itcan’t happen again. To which I’ll agree. Of course. Instead, he nods towards the crowd outside.

“Should we join the party?”

“Sure, why not?” I shrug, feigning nonchalance. We definitely need to put some space between us.

I follow him outside, tugging his jacket just a little tighter around me. Jax wanders off, probably in search of his brother. I walk around the corner of the house, where I know there’s a cluster of rose bushes. I just need a minute to steady my erratic pulse. I want to stare up at the clear moon overhead and admire the mountain peaks in the distance while I push down these weirdfeelingsI’ve been having around Jax.

Just as I walk around the corner, the sound of rustling makes me pause. Although I can’t make out their features in the dark, I can see a man pressed up against a writhing female. His hips grind into hers as he kisses down her neck. She moans, her fingers running through long locks of dark blonde hair.

I freeze, everything inside me going cold.

My fingers lose their grip on my wine glass, and it goes tumbling out of my hand. It lands on the ground, the red liquid sloshing out and soaking into the grass. There’s a plummeting sensation in my stomach as the couple turns to face me, both of them looking shocked.

The curly-haired female I don’t recognize.

But the man now rushing towards me with his hands out in a placating gesture, his face contorted in regret and guilt?

“Luke, what the fuck are you doing?” My voice is squeaky.

Something cracks in my chest, and I suspect it’s the last lingering piece of love that was holding our relationship together.

“It’s not what it looks like!” he exclaims, his voice sounding panicked. The curly-haired woman huffs, sending him a sneer as she rights her clothes. She storms away, her shoulder ramminginto his as she goes. It sends him stumbling back a step, but his eyes remain on me.

I blink at him.

“Well—I mean, I guess it is kind of what it looks like,” he rushes on, his hand dragging through the long locks that now hang freely down his shoulders, those long fingers tangling them into snarls. His eyes squeeze shut for a moment. “What you saw—Madds, that’s all it was. I’ve never touched her before. We just had a little too much to drink and got carried away. You have to believe me.”

I chuckle humorlessly. “You expect me to believe that’s the first time you’ve ever touched her?” I ask, my voice growing hard. Rage burns through me, making my limbs tremble. The pitch of my voice grows louder, harsher as I continue. “Or that it even fucking matters?”

He winces. “Please, Maddie baby,” he pleads, approaching me slowly like one would a frightened animal.

I take a step back. I’m honestly surprised this hurts as much as it does. Even through the searing anger, I can feel the jagged pieces ofhurt.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

Behind me, I think I can hear voices murmuring. I’m vaguely aware that we’re drawing a crowd.

“Let’s go somewhere private and talk,” he says. He draws in a shaky breath and, maybe it makes me a shitty person, but the fear in his eyes makes me feel vindicated. Part of me wants him to be afraid, to hurt knowing that the end ofusis coming, and all because he fucked up.

I scoff. “I was trying to think of a way to let you down easy, you know?” A lump forms in my throat but I swallow past it, blinking as my vision blurs.

A hint of pain and vulnerability flashes across his face. “Give me another chance,” he whispers, his lips trembling. “Please don’t do this.” As if he could stop what he’s already set in motion.

“I was going to be gentle when I broke the news to you,” I say quietly, vehemently. “But now? I just want you to know that I hate how many years I wasted on you, and I’m done.”

I turn then, pausing when I see the silent crowd gathered behind us. They look at me with pity, and I fucking hate it. My pulse picks up, and I wipe my palms against my jeans. The attention—the pitying stares—it makes me want to run and hide.

“What the hell is going on?”

Jax’s disgruntled voice booms from somewhere behind the crowd and my heart feels like it’s about to careen straight into a brick wall. I don’t want him to see me like this. He’s so strong and unflappable, and I’m about two seconds away from falling apart. The crowd parts for him, and his face comes into view. His gaze immediately finds me, concern and confusion flitting across his rugged features. Then he notices Luke standing behind me, and his eyes darken. I take a deep, calming breath before I force my feet to carry me through the crowd.

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