Page 102 of Wicked Little Game
“That’s not my boyfriend. That’s myfriendthat you just scared shitless, asshole.”
The anger leaves my body, replaced by regret. Well, that wasn’t the best start to the conversation.
“And why do you have flowers?”
“For you,” I say, holdingthem out to her.
She sighs as she comes closer, whispering, “Thank you,” with flushed cheeks as she takes them before walking back to the kitchen.
She struggles to reach the vase on the top shelf, and I walk closer to help her. Some things never change.
“I should apologize to—what was his name again?”
“Jonah.” She looks up, still a trace of anger on her pretty face. There’s soft pink paint on her arm, some in her hair, and after I take a look around the house, I understand why it smells like paint.
The poor guy helped her renovate, in a horribly chaotic way, but nevertheless, and I just got him to the brink of a heart attack.
“Why did you come back?” she asks, trying to appear busy while she arranges the flowers in the vase.
“Forgot my charger when I left,” I say and she nudges my arm. “I came back for you, dipshit.”
She sighs as she comes closer and lets her head fall against my chest while I put my hands on her waist.
“And you’re sure he’s not your boyfriend? He won’t be mad at me when I do this?” I lift her up and sit her down on the kitchen counter.
Her soft skin feels so good under my fingertips, even better now that I can really touch her instead of imagining it like I did every single night for the past few weeks.
“Can’t say that for sure. He’s really protective, you know?”
She laughs, her lips brushing against mine.
“He doesn’t need to protect you. I’m here now,” I whisper before I kiss her.
“Unless you leave again,” she says quietly as she pulls away.
Okay, we really need to talk this out.
“I had to. And you are aware that you told me you didn’t love me, which kind of gave me the impression that it was okay to leave?”
“Yeah,” she says. “I really thought it was for the better. I like you. Fuck, I love you, Sam. But there was so much going on and after you told me about the situation with your ex—”
I put my hand over her mouth because I told her she’s not allowed to mention this. She rolls her eyes and shoves my hand away.
“Look, I just thought it would be better to get my shit together. It didn’t seem right to dive head-first into whatever it was. I was sure that you’d realize that this isn’t what you want, or that I would realize it isn’t what I want. Didn’t happen though, in case you were wondering. But throughout my whole life, I never really made decisions for myself. I was never alone, like, really alone.”
I nod, trying to pluck a dried-up piece of paint out of her hair. It doesn’t work, and she flinches as I pull a bit too harshly. Guess she’ll have to stay this way. It doesn’t matter, because she’s still the most beautiful woman on the planet.
“I was in a bad mental state after you left, I won’t lie. It took me not even a few hours to accept that I made a big mistake.”
“Why didn’t you call? Or text? Anything.”
“As I said, I didn’t want to force you into a situation you didn’t want to be in. Again.”
She is right. Fuck, she really was the bigger person. I was hurt, just like her, but she had to deal with so much shit after we left, all alone, while I had my chaotic support system.
“Was everything alright with the documents? Or did you have any troubles?”
“Everything all right, got it all sorted out.”
