Page 36 of Second Chance Ex
Shit. I realize a second too late that I just said that out loud instead of in my head, and the words leave a bitter, tense air in their wake. Fuck. I hesitate before glancing back at Joey. He’s still facing away from me, only he’s no longer painting, his head is slightly bowed, his shoulders a little less wide than they were a moment ago. And, I know I shouldn’t, but I feel really shitty.
I huff a sigh, glancing up to the ceiling a moment before looking at his back again. “I’m sorry. I—I shouldn’t have said that.”
Joey shrugs one of his muscular shoulders, turning to face me, and I see the hint of sadness in his eyes, despite the smile he tries to offer.
“What about you and…” I trail off when I realize I don’t even know her name. “How long have you been with yourgirlfriend?”
“Jessie,” he clarifies. “We’ve been together for a while.”
Stab me in the neck, because I’m sure it’d hurt less. I nod.
“She’s a…cheerleader,” he says the word tentatively, a look of guilt flashing in his eyes.
Of course, she is. I barely contain my own eye roll.
“She’s really cool,” he says quickly. “I think you’d like her a lot.”
I gawp at him. I think he’s actually serious.
Instead of one of the many smart-mouthed quips that threaten me—something that might come across as jealousy or spitefulness—I press my lips together and offer the most convincing smile I can manage, turning back to my designated wall.
“Although, Jessie’d probably lose her shit if I ever did something like this.”
“Something like what?” I turn back around only to be met with a face full of paint splatter.
I scream, almost stumbling back into my freshly painted wall.
“Oh my God, Prue, I didn’t expect you to turn around!” Joey chortles through a barking laugh.
I keel over, wiping my eyes, and he’s suddenly right there, his hand on my back.
“Holy shit, are you okay?”
For the record, I’m fine. My eyes are fine. But screw him. I add a sniffle for effect, reaching down to grab a handful of paint. And as I stand back to my full height, I reach up and gently slap my hand against the side of his face, leaving a great big white handprint on his cheek.
Joey’s dark blue eyes are wide, his lips parted, the faint hint of a shocked smile curling at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, you asked for it now,” he murmurs deviously.
When I see him reach down for the entire paint tray,I shriek with laughter, jumping to action. I make a run for it, but of course, my attempt is futile; Joey reaches one of his long arms out, his hand grabbing me by the back of my overalls and stopping me in my tracks. He pulls me flush against him, my back to his chest, a strong arm wrapped around my middle pinning me to him. And with his other hand, he tips the tray of paint down the front of me, some of it even getting on the inside of my overalls.
I squeal in objection, laughing all the while and, turning in his arms, I try and rub as much paint off me and onto him. But then I realize exactly what’s happening; Joey is holding me, while I rub myself up against him like a woman starved. At first it was innocent, but now it’s just downright filthy. At the same time, I assume Joey realizes too, and if I’m not mistaken, I see the precise moment his gaze turns from innocent to heated, grin turning almost cunning, his chest heaving a little harder than it was mere seconds ago. He’s still holding me. We’re still looking into one another’s eyes. There’s definitely something still there between us.
It feels like an eternity, but is probably no more than ten or so seconds before I finally speak, trying to maneuver myself out of his grip. “I should get cleaned up before?—”
“Wait…” Joey’s gaze dips down to my chest, brows knitting together. “What is that?”
Fuck. I realize too late exactly what he’s just seen, the metal suddenly searing against my skin the longer he stares at it.
His inky gaze moves from the necklace, to my eyes and back again, questioningly. My skin pricks and thetiny hairs at the back of my neck stand on end when his eyes meet mine again because gone is the heat I’d seen in them moments ago when I was almost sure he was going to kiss me. Now, there’s a pensive familiarity within his gaze, and it’s like we’re taken right back there, to that night in his truck when everything between us changed.
It turns out my father’s been right all along. Iaman idiot. A fucking idiot. A goddamn, good for nothing dumbass.
I keep my focus fixed on the road ahead, illuminated by the headlights of my truck. With both hands gripping the steering wheel to within an inch of its life, my jaw clenching painfully tight, I feel like I’m on autopilot. Hell, I’ve felt like I’ve been on autopilot since I got off the plane yesterday. Smiling and laughing, making love to my girl. Knowing that it was all going to come to an abrupt end. That no matter what, she was going to end up hating me. I didn’t want it to be like this. Idon’twant it to be like this. And it doesn’t have to be. Or maybe it does. Maybe it really is all or nothing, like she said.
I rake my teeth over my bottom lip, glancing sideways at Prue where she sits hunched over herself in the passenger seat. She looks so small, so defeated,so broken. The lights from the dash illuminate her face, highlighting her cheeks stained with black tear tracks from her mascara. She sniffles, and the sound is like a knife straight to my heart. I did this. I did this to her. I always said that if anyone hurt my girl, I’d fucking kill them. Who knew it’d be me hurting her the most?
Dragging a hand down my face, I force my gaze back to the darkness ahead, my traitorous mind flashing with the image of the look in her eyes from earlier tonight. The betrayal and the hurt I’d witnessed taunts me. Heartbreak. It’s the only way to describe it. That look in her big eyes, shining with the tears I’d caused; the definition of pure fucking heartbreak. I broke her heart tonight, and for as long as I live, I will never forgive myself.
“You…you want to break up?”Prue’s voice was small, words broken, voice trembling like she was on the verge of tears.
