Page 59 of Overtime Goal
I rolled onto my side and squinted at him. He looked like shit. Gorgeous, but still like shit. He’d loosened his tie, and his face was haggard. He looked much older than he had in the photo.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Are you sleeping?”
“I was.”
He cleared his throat. “I hate to ask, but please get up. We need to talk.”
About what? Are you leaving in the morning to follow her somewhere?
Nervous laughter was a thing with me, but I managed to hold it back. “No. I’m tired. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Please.” His voice was small and fragile. “It’s really important.”
“So was your date,” I snapped. I hadn’t meant to sound like a jerk, but the words shot out like barbed wire. “Why are you back so early?”
He looked across the room into my eyes. “Because I wanted to see you.”
Hope surged after all, and I almost got up. But that one thing would have shattered every boundary I’d been putting in place since he left. Since I had to put myself first, I didn’t move.
Jesus, I’d seen the photo, and I could still taste the bitterness of seeing him dressed to impress someone who wasn’t me. His bright eyes and big smile had been for her. If I didn’t draw the line now, I never would.
I kept my voice calm. “You’ve seen me. Now I’d like to go back to sleep if that’s okay with you. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
His face didn’t just fall; it toppled to the floor. Had he actually thought this would go differently?
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll wash up and come to bed.”
What fucking dimension was he living in? Fuck him if he thought he was sleeping with me.
Why was he home so early anyway? Maybe they hadn’t made it through the entire meal. They could have found a corner or bathroom where they could fuck, or perhaps they’d done it in the back seat of the car. He’d told me about a lot of his exploits over the last four years, and neither of those options would have been new for him.
God, I wanted to cry out and chase the thoughts away, but they were insistent. I pictured her model legs around him, telling him how handsome he was and how much she needed him. He’d eaten it up because that was what he was after, for women to want him. In my mind, I heard their grunts and groans, their strangled cries when they came. Fuck him because he wanted a straight life with straight sex.
And now he wanted to crawl into my bed? He probably still smelled like her, and there was no fucking way I could handle that.
“No,” I said. “I need some time alone. See you tomorrow.”
He stepped into the room. “Logan, I’m trying to?—”
“Please close the door behind you.” I turned onto my side, facing away from him. “See you in the morning.”
He made a pitiful sound in his throat, and after a few seconds, the door clicked shut. In the silence that followed, I stared at the wall and tried not to break.
24/
riley
I’d slept like garbage,tossing and turning through dreams that were worse than memories of my childhood. I kept coming around and reaching across the bed for Logan, only to find the sheets cold. Each time I remembered why he wasn’t there, a fresh wave of nausea hit. At about two in the morning, I’d had to run to the bathroom and barf up dinner.
Now it was after nine, and though sunlight was flooding through the windows, I couldn’t force myself to get up. My eyes burned from lack of sleep and the pathetic tears I couldn’t turn off. Logan had shut me out like a stranger, turned his back on me, and told me to close the door like I’d been an unwelcome intrusion.
Fuck that. Maybe he hadn’t wanted me there, but at least I’d tried. I’d been ready to explain and apologize, tell him everything I’d been holding back. He deserved the truth, and I was ready to give it to him. Maybe I was bi, and he needed to know.
I wasn’t sure, but bisexuality fit. It made sense of every time I looked at him and wanted more. It explained what had led up to LA and everything that had happened since. I’d wanted to sayall that, but he’d told me to leave. The silence was worse than any screaming match I’d ever had.
Shit.I finally dragged my sorry ass out of bed, pulled on shorts, and wandered barefoot through the villa. When I called his name, my voice echoed through the empty rooms, bouncing off tile and glass. Other than that, the place was silent.
Had he fucking left before I even got out of bed? The car was still outside, so he must be on foot, but where would he go without me? We’d made plans for today. We were supposed to drive along the coast, stop when we saw something interesting, and maybe even pretend to be Italian. Had he thrown all that away without even telling me? Apparently so since he’d bailed without leaving a note.
