Page 67 of The Wildest One
A realization that caused my eyes to fill. I pushed my hand against my chest as it hammered away, which did absolutely nothing. The tears still streamed. My heart still ached.
I shouldn’t have come here.
I wished I hadn’t gone to Musik last night. I didn’t know he was going to be there. I didn’t even realize it was his club I was at. But meeting him there, learning the truth about Africa, seeing how quickly we rekindled, and spending time with him—it only made this harder.
Because no matter what he had said to me last night or what had happened between us, there was no future between Beck and me.
What had gone down in this house would never go down again.
That meant I would never feel his arms around me. I would never get to kiss him. I would never get to experience the things his body could do to me.
And I would never get to tell him how much I cared about him.
This moment, right here, was the end.
The end of whatever could begin.
As I licked the wetness off my lips, my mouth filled with the salty aftermath of my tears.
They hadn’t been shed out of guilt. They had been shed because I was in mourning.
And I knew this feeling would only get worse as I lamented over what we could have been.
I backed away from the bedroom, and using the light from my phone, I found my way to the front door, silently shutting it behind me. I figured there were multiple cameras pointed at me, so I rushed toward the gate, waiting for it to open before I went on my Uber app and ordered a car. To put some distancebetween his house and me, I walked toward his neighbor’s entrance, and that was where I called Ginger.
“Are you okay?” Her voice was rich with panic as she answered my call. “It’s not even six in the morning.”
A squirrel ran past me, and I jumped. The darkness of his street and lack of lamps made things feel a little eerie at this hour.
“I’m fine. I just ordered an Uber. I’ll be headed your way in a couple of minutes.”
“An Uber? Why isn’t Beck taking you home?”
“I didn’t wake him. I … didn’t want to. I sorta just snuck out.”
“Why, babe? Did things not go well last night?”
At the end of the block, knowing I’d probably walked too far for the Uber to find me, I approached the pole of the Stop sign. My arm weaved around it before my fingers clung to the cold metal. “No, things between us were perfect. Like, so perfect, Ginger.” My voice was softening with each word. “That’s the problem.” I rested my cheek against the base of the sign too. “If I had been there when he woke up, I know he’d have asked more questions, and things would have probably been even better than last night—and I couldn’t handle that. Not when I can’t give him honest answers.”
She cleared her throat, and I expected an immediate reply, but it didn’t come for several seconds. “Eventually, you’re going to have to tell him the truth. And the sooner you do that, the better, Jolie.”
“Ugh.” I released the pole and backed up to the brick wall that aligned with the sidewalk, a wall that acted as a fence to the mansion that sat behind it. “The thought of that makes me feel sick.”
“But wouldn’t you rather have him hear it from you?”
I pushed my head against it, the sharp pieces pulling at my hair. “Yes.” My eyes closed, the guilt returning—or coming on stronger, as I was sure it hadn’t left. “I just don’t want to.”
“I know.” She sighed. “This is so messy.”
My eyelids flicked open as a car drove by, but I knew it wasn’t my ride since it never slowed. “This is why last night shouldn’t have happened. What was I even thinking?”
“Well, I didn’t help much. I was pushing you to do it. I feel terrible now.”
“But I didn’t have to listen to you.”
“Babe, I told you things were going to close up, you know, down there. And to just do it and deal with the consequences later. This is later. And I’m a giant asshole.”
“One, stop blaming yourself. I’m a big girl, and we both know I was going to do it regardless of what you said. None of this is your fault, and you’re most definitely not an asshole.”
