Page 89 of Recklessly You
“It’s better if you stay and take a couple of more days off. He’s doing okay now.”
“He doesn’t want me there?” I ask.
“Umm…I didn’t tell you sooner because I wanted to wait just in case.”
I get it. She wanted to wait. She knew if she told me I would fly out to him, and he would turn me away.
“I asked him,” Mila says, “and he said he didn’t want you to know what happened.”
I wince. The words hit me like a whip to my back. It’s clear he’s erased me from his life.
“It’s okay, Mila. Thank you for letting me know. He doesn’t want me there…he doesn’t want to see me. He’s moved on. I get it. I’m just glad he’s doing better.”
She blows out another breath. “I don’t think it’s that he doesn’t want to see you. I think it’s that he doesn’t want you to see him in the state he’s in. Also, Dominic was telling me Liam was offered a position as a detective on the LAPD. And I think he’s going to take it.”
She attempts to console me, yet her final comments shatter my already-fragmented heart like glass. He intends to stay away from me. He no longer holds any affection for me. I change the subject and ask how Dante and the studio are doing. Once we hang up, I throw myself on the bed and cry into my pillow. This is it—the end. He wanted me out of his life, and he meant it.
We were just fucking. You were nothing more than a good fuck.
The pain running through my body feels like a bucket of ice water poured into my veins. I ache with the bone-chilling cold. I grab a pillow and hug it for warmth. I cry for the warmth of his touch that I’ll never feel again.
As much as I still love him, the pain fades into anger. For months, he led me on, allowed me to fall, only to toss me aside when he was through. I’m angrier with myself for falling so hard and fast, even having known his terms. However, he didn’t stick with them when he dragged me to his home, when he proved willing to play the doting lover with me, so domestic-like. In the end, it’s my fault for falling for his charm.
I hate that he was hurt and could’ve died. That thought kills me. I’d rather steal stolen glances than never see him again.
* * *
“Knock,knock. Honey, are you awake? Dinner’s ready.”
I groan and stretch. I must have dozed off, crying myself to sleep.
“Hey, Mom, sorry, I must have fallen asleep. You should have woken me up to help you.”
Her blue eyes soften. “Oh, honey, are you okay? Your eyes are puffy and red.”
I nod. “I’m fine. Let’s go eat.” I stumble to my feet like a baby calf.
She smiles, then nods, shutting the door.
I swiftly walk into the bathroom to wash my face and head to the kitchen. My mouth hangs open at the amount of food my mom has made. It’s only the three of us, and she cooked as if she were feeding an army—a pile of barbecue chicken, roasted corn, mashed potatoes, grilled veggies, and honey biscuits.
My dad stomps in, covered in dirt like he’s been rolling in the mud with the pigs. I’m not used to seeing my dad so outdoorsy. He’s a contractor and used to getting dirty, but never like this. His tall Viking frame fills the doorway. He scratches his blond bushy beard and scrutinizes me.
“How are you doing, sweet pea? Feeling better?”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Good, Dad. I took a nap, and I’m better.”
He nods and groans. “If you need me to cut off anyone’s balls, you let me know.”
I snort and shake my head. “No need, Dad.”
My mom walks in and swats him on the butt. I guess that’s where I get my butt-smacking from. My dad’s brown eyes twinkle as he stares at her with a hint of amusement.
“Go wash up!” Mom hollers at him.
I hear a husky laugh behind my dad. I wrinkle my nose. Who could that be? Mom didn’t say we had company.
