Page 78 of Loving Wild
“But you didn’t tell me.”
I close my eyes in frustration. This could all have been so easily avoided, all I had to do was tell her the truth. “I know. I know I didn’t. I was too drunk to even consider it a problem at first. Then I was too hungover the next day. Then we had the police and the lawyer to deal with . . .” I pause and decide I’ve had e-fucking-nough of the distance between us, and move behind her, pulling her between my legs and pressing her back to my front.
“You weren’t in a good place. I wasn’t in a good place, so I just didn’t bring it up. I would’ve told you at some stage, but I won’t lie to you, I don’t know when that might’ve been,” I say against her ear.
I feel her let out a breath or a sigh, I’m not sure which. I just hold on to her, hold her close and breathe her in.
“Fair enough. I understand all of your reasons, I get why you did what you did, and I believe you that nothing happened, but none of that changes that I can’t handle being confronted by your exes everywhere I turn.”
“It’s not everywhere . . .” I start to say, but her head snaps around, her narrowed blue eyes pierce me so sharply I stop.
“I’m working with your ex, we slept at the home of the woman who abused you last night, I got told to know my place by the woman you share a daughter with, then we went to buy a car, and the receptionist at the dealership is your fuckbuddy. I get that everyone has a past, Gabe, and I thought that I could deal with yours, and I will, eventually I’ll be able to do that. But I’m not there yet. The more we venture out of our bubble, out into the world as a couple, the more I realise your past is surrounding me, and I knowme,Gabe. I know the way my over-thinking brain works. Everywhere I go, every waitress, check out operator, I’ll be wondering if you’ve fucked them.”
“That’s fucking ridiculous, there’s not that many,” I snap, feeling pissed off now that she’s blowing the number of people I’ve slept with out of proportion.
“I know. I know that, but that’s where my head’s at, that’s the way you’ve got me thinking. And I can’t do it. I need a break from it. I’m not even over Jay yet, I need to process all of that before I can deal with having your past thrown at me every way I look.”
I pull away and stand up. “You’re not over Jay?” I question.
She stands and faces me. “No, I’m not. I don’t know that I’ll ever be over what Jay . . .”
What. The. Fuck.
“Then perhaps it is best you go,” I interrupt, not wanting to hear any more.
Her hands, which were trying and failing to hold that beautiful red hair of hers in place, drop to her sides, and she shakes her head at me before nodding it.
“Fair enough,” she says quietly before turning and walking back towards the house.
* * *
I sit on the sofa,listening to Lauren move around in the bedroom. I heard her on the phone earlier, but I don’t know who she was talking to, and I don’t know what she said. I’ve lit the fire and poured myself a large whisky in the hope that both will help ease the chill of sitting in the cold, wet sand on the beach, and of the situation.
She’s not over Jay? What the actual fuck does that even mean? I can’t believe she said that, admitted to it, especially after everything he’s put her through.
That doesn’t mean I really want her to go. But I said it, and now I don’t know how to unsay it and make it right.
The gate alarm sounds and I stand to look out the window as Jo’s car appears on the drive. I knew it would be her or Ryder she called to rescue her.
Tilting my head back, I finish the contents in my glass and move back to the kitchen to pour myself another.
Leaning my hips against the kitchen bench, I watch as Lauren appears from the bedroom.
“Jo’s here. Is it okay if she comes up and helps me with my stuff?”
Pissed off that she’s asking me permission, I take a long swig of my drink. My head spins, and my gut burns as the liquor hits home.
“Jo’s here to help you? Why Jo? Why didn’t you call the other bloke, you know, the one you’re not over? Oh yeah, that’s right, he’s in prison for knocking seven kinds of shit out of you, right before he pissed all over you.” She steps back, then folds like I’ve punched her in the gut. Still slightly bent over and with her arms wrapped around her middle, she stares at me wide-eyed, her mouth hanging open as she fights to draw in breath. I throw my glass. She ducks to the side and flinches as it flies past her head and hits the wall above the fire, the amber liquid darkening the paintwork as it sprays across it.
I open my mouth to explain that I wasn’t aiming my glass at her, that I didn’t mean the words I just said, that I don’t want her to go, but she’s standing there, looking so fucking broken, nothing comes out.
Lacing my fingers on top of my head, I turn away from her with absolute shame coursing through my veins.
Lauren’s footsteps sound on the stairs, the front door slams, and Jo’s car pulls away, but I don’t move. The guilt at what I just said and did has me rooted firmly to the spot.
Chapter 19
Lauren.
