Page 196 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
33: FESTERING WOUNDS
HART
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I CAN’T SLEEP.
I can’t think.
I certainly can’t sit around that campfire with the few stragglers waiting for Jade and the rest of the group to come back from the meet and greet.
I angle the flashlight downward and walk to the rear corner of the bus. Crouching beside the wheel well, I run my hand along the edge, brushing off a layer of dust and road grit.
It isn’t the first time I’ve given the bus a once-over since the blown tire, and hell, I might use it as a distraction for the rest of the week.
I need a distraction. What had I been thinking, pulling her into the privacy behind the curtain? Kissing her, touching her, and making her come right there.
I had no damn right. Not when zero plans exceed that moment.
I don’t even have space in my head to acknowledge that she went to the meet and greet with the same dancer adhering to her on the stage. Not after what we did—what I did to her.
The jealousy that had me spiraling earlier is nothing compared to the reminder that I can’t have her.
How could I?
I feel like a broken record repeating all the reasons why we could never be together, but it basically stems from the fact that I’m not worthy of her.
“You dodging everyone again?” Levi strolls over to me.
If that’s his guess, then why the hell did he seek me out? He has his Fox wife to cuddle with tonight and experiment with all new positions.
Cringe.
Even as I think it, I don’t want to be thinking it.
“I don’t feel like sittin’ around a campfire pretending like everything’s all sunshine and marshmallows.”
My fingers pause at a hairline crack in the mudguard.
Shit.
Is this new?
I frown, tracing it. Then I press a knuckle into the tire’s sidewall to test the pressure.
“I thought everythingwasall sunshine and marshmallows.” He leans against the side of the bus, blocking the moonlight. “You and Jade came out looking in good spirits.”
“You would think that,” I mutter, but loud enough for him to hear.
“Want to elaborate?”
“No.”
He’s the last person I want to see right now. He’s a firm reminder of everything I’ve screwed up and the bleak future it’s left me. Add in his attempt to do whatever the hell he’s attempting to do, and it only doubles my lack of interest.
“Maybe you should tell me what’s going on.”
“Maybe you should fuck off.” Shifting to one knee, I lean in and check the lug nuts, giving each a firm tug.
