Page 43 of Haunted Hearts
But my phone’s not there. Where the hell is it?
And then I remember. It’s on the counter. Shit, shit, shit.
Without even bothering to wipe my still wet hands on the towel, I hurl myself out the door and make my way down the hall, praying the whole way that Lydia won’t have seen anything I don’t want her to see yet.
twenty-two
LYDIA
All I wanted to do after Will came in my mouth and I’d swallowed him down was stand up and kiss the hell out of him. He looked so undone, sitting sprawled back on my kitchen barstool, his pants unzipped and his cock absolutely finished, that I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Knowing I’d made him look like that—and feel that good—was exhilarating.
But I didn’t kiss him. There was something in the wary way he looked at me as he zipped himself up that told me I’d be crossing some kind of line. Which is wild, given all the lines we’ve crossed these past couple weeks. I kind of figured… what’s one more? But he’s right. I may not hate his guts like I used to, but there’s still the fact that he’s the contractor on that fucking renovation project. We’ve got to draw the line somewhere. Then again, they haven’t started work on the computer lab yet. I’m still hoping…
Will’s phone is buzzing again where he left it on the counter. I glance over at it, shrugging off the vague notion that I probably shouldn’t violate his privacy. But it’sthere. And it’s loud. And it’s vibrating so hard it’s dancing all over the damn counter. So I swipe it up.
And my body goes cold.
It’s Ethan Wilde, and I realize pretty fucking fast what the text is about. And although I don’t know Will’s password, enough of the text has come up on the preview screen that it’s instantly clear: Will has been anything but honest.
From: Ethan Wilde
Great! Reached out to your first rec, calling for bids starting Monday! Thanks for facilitating.
The text cuts off. As a chilling rage begins to creep over me, I suddenly realize that these plans are way further along than anyone bothered to tell me.
And Will knew. He fuckingknew.
When I look up, Will’s in the doorway. His face is solemn. Clearly, he’s sobered up from the high of the head I just gave him. He just looks at me, sighs, and holds out his hand for his phone.
I don’t give it to him right away. Instead, I hold it up so the preview screen flashes again, and Ethan Wilde’s text appears across the screen. “Were you ever going to tell me about this? Or were you just going to wait until everything happened and I had no choice but to find out?”
He doesn’t say anything, just reaches for the phone.
I pull it out of his reach. “Will Holloway, you answer me right now.”
Will sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, giving up on the phone for the moment. “I was going to tell you. I was figuring out how.”
“Oh, howconvenient,” I snarl. “I guess you reasoned that once you told me there’d be no more fucking in the firelight, no more blowjobs on the kitchen floor, huh?”
“Lydia, it’s not like that?—”
“Spare me the bullshit, Will. I’m not that dumb.”
“I don’t think you’re dumb.”
“Well, it sure seems like you do, because you really fucking played me.”
He stares at me for what feels like forever. Then, plucking his phone from my unsuspecting grip, he steps around me and grabs his wallet and keys off the kitchen counter.
“We’ve got to stop this,” he says as he shoves his keys into his pocket. “I don’t think you’re dumb, and I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. But we’ve got to stop now before it goes any further.”
He doesn’t have to saywhatwe’re stopping. I know.
“I couldn’t agree more. Consider it stopped.”
“Okay.” He stops at the door. “Look, I’ll see you around, alright? And whatever you want to know about the renovation specs or where the project goes from here, I’m an open book.”
I don’t bother to say goodbye as I shut the door after him. I feel cheap, used. Even if he meant what he said about not meaning for me to get hurt, he did a really shitty job of avoiding it. But mainly, I’m mad at myself. I should have known better than to put myself in this position again, to give someone else the chance to leave me behind in the dust. Because that’s what’s always going to happen. They will always choose someone—something—over me.
