Page 32 of The Mistakes I've Made
It wasn’t a mistake, I reminded myself.
It could have been a mistake.
I’d called her up late last night, knowing she’d come if I asked.
And sure enough, she did.
She’d barely made it through the door before we were hot and heavy on the couch. Her hands had found my belt buckle and that’s when I’d frozen.
Like a damn statue.
I’d thought that if I could keep my body was occupied elsewhere, my mind would be free to do what was necessary. And what was necessary was getting rid of Leilani.
But it turned out my mind and body were much more aligned than I realized.
“Hey,” I said, rising from the couch to put some much needed distance between us. After putting the breaks on heavy last night, I’d offered up an all night movie marathon, hoping to keep us occupied, and although she’d given me a suspicious gaze, she’d agreed.
And she kept her distance.
“Thanks for hanging out with me,” I said lamely. “But I need to head into work—”
Her eyes perked up, a glimmer of hope. “How about you go hop in the shower, and I’ll whip us up some—”
“No breakfast,” I said, stepping towards the stairs. Her face fell instantly. “The rules haven’t changed, Sierra.”
She studied the floor before searching for her purse. “No, I guess they haven’t.”
“I shouldn’t have called you last night,” I said softly.
“No,” she protested, turning away. “I was stupid to assume. Just, please keep calling, Taylor.” There was a distinct note of desperation in her tone.
“Why, Sierra? I can’t give you what you need. And I can’t keep seeing that haunted look of hurt in your eyes.”
She smiled, but it was a ghost of a smile, as if she were practicing something that had once been so natural. “You’re not the one who put the hurt in my eyes,” she answered. “But you help soothe it, even for a moment or two.”
I stepped forward and pulled her into my arms, her tears already falling onto my chest.
Nothing ever lasted.
Love always hurt.
For Sierra, it was a cheating boyfriend. My mother, a widow too young. Mrs. McKennon, a broken heart.
No, calling Sierra wasn’t a mistake. If anything, she was the best kind of medicine.
Because, if Millie and Dean were correct and I was indeed falling for Leilani Hart, seeing the pain and feeling Sierra’s tears stain my t-shirt were exactly what I needed.
If falling in love was a sickness, I’d just been immunized.
Getting off to a much later start than I liked, thanks to a few very chatty guests at breakfast this morning, my pace to the hotel was much quicker than normal.
And, today, I kept my eyes straight ahead.
With my six-week deadline, I did not have time for shirtless men on the marina.
No matter how hot they were.
It was a particularly hot day in September, the weather in this town fluctuating so much that I wasn’t sure what to wear at any given time, so by the time I made it to the hotel, I was sweating.
