Page 107 of Suck My Puck

Maizie follows me to the kitchen, where I grab a bone for her. I toss it onto the plush dog bed in the living room. She happily trots over and plops down before chewing the bone.

I walk down the hallway, stopping at the door of the bathroom, which is cracked open. I knock softly.

It’s a second before Bella answers. “What?”

Her voice is watery and strained, like she’s been crying.

My chest cracks in half. Fuck. I hate hearing her so hurt.

“Can I come in?” I ask gently.

“I really don’t want to see you right now.”

“Please, Bella? Will you let me explain? Please?”

It’s quiet for a long stretch.

“Fine,” she finally says.

I unzip the rabbit costume and take it off, leaving me in just boxer briefs and socks.

I push open the door and see Bella in the shower, eyes closed as she stands under the spray.

When she opens her eyes and looks at me, it feels like I’ve been punched in the gut. Her golden brown eyes are puffy and red from crying.

Every muscle in my body twitches with the need to hold her, to comfort her, to tell her I’m sorry over and over.

I walk over to her, open the glass door to the shower, and step inside.

Her eyes widen as she looks down at my soaked underwear and socks.

“What are you…”

I cup her face in my hands, cutting her off. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes go glassy with fresh tears and her lips wobble as she struggles not to cry.

I lean down and kiss her, humming at the feel of her soft mouth.

When we break apart, I hold her face in my hands. Her arms stay at her sides. She’s still so hurt. Still guarded. It’s agony seeing her like this.

“I’m sorry for how I handled things with Lacey. She and I used to have a thing a long time ago. I’m not interested in her at all. I should have pushed her away when she put her hands on me. I should have told her that I wasn’t into her. I thought standing there and acting disinterested would be enough for her to get the message, but it wasn’t. I’m so sorry.”

Bella’s quiet for a moment. “I understand,” she finally says, her voice soft and small. “I’m sorry too, for how I reacted.” She sniffles. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

I kiss her forehead. “It’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t feel like this.” She lets out a sad, weak laugh.

“What do you mean?” I ask softly.

“I don’t have the right to feel this jealous seeing another woman flirt with you. It’s not like we’re in a relationship. It’s not like you’re mine.”

That uneasy, ugly feeling digs deeper in my gut. Everything she’s saying feels wrong.

“What if I want that?”

Her eyebrows crash together. “What?”

---