Page 123 of You're so Bad

“Thanks, man,” I say, feeling numb inside as I head back toward Shauna.

“Stay safe.”

Shauna’s watching me as I walk toward her, her forehead lined with worry. With every step I take, I feel like more of a fuckup. A failure.

“Go on inside, honey,” I tell her. “I’ve got to make a call.”

“What happened?” she asks in an undertone.

“It’s nothing.”

It’s everything, and she seems to know it.

We enter the house, and after putting the flowers in some water, she sits on the sofa. I can feel her watching me as I head into the kitchen to call Burke. It takes me a second to get my hand steady enough to find his number.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, laughing. “How’d those photos go for you?”

And I tell him everything.

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking. “He never saw your face?”

“No.”

Then he swears. “This isn’t about him, but we’ll move the kid just in case. Go talk to them. Turn yourself in if they’re looking to arrest you. I’m calling Shane.”

A disbelieving sound escapes me. “Shane’s not going to put his career on the line to help me. He’s all but said he’s done with me.”

“We’re family,” Burke says. “Shane’s…Shane. But he’ll come if he knows you’re in trouble. I know he will.”

I hang up, and I do one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I tuck my phone in the pocket of that red suit, then walk into the living room and tell Shauna what’s happening. I pace while she sits on the couch, taking it all in.

The color leaks from her face. Her worry hurts worse than my own because all I’ve ever wanted to do is make her feel good, and here I am doing the opposite.

“He doesn’t think it has anything to do with Joel?” she asks.

“He seemed pretty sure of it, but I don’t know what the fuck else it could be about.”

She lifts her fingers to her lips. “You said you broke into the Burkes’ car…that you took Mrs. Burke’s bag.”

I shake my head. “There weren’t any cameras, I checked. And it was weeks ago.”

“We should go,” she says, getting up off the couch. “We should find out—”

I pull her to me and kiss her like it’s going to be the last time. Those ‘we’s’ she dropped are still echoing in my brain, proof that she’s once again treating my shitty problems as hers. She kisses me back just as hard, sucking in my bottom lip and running her hands under the ugly suit jacket.

I trace my hands up her soft thighs and find her underwear, tugging them off. She steps out of them without missing a beat. Our mouths are still attacking each other as her hands find the belt of my pants and tug it open. I’m already hard, full of need for her. I back her into the wall, hoisting her up by her thighs. My mouth’s still on hers, like I have to keep it there to be able to breathe.

I reach down to adjust myself with one hand, and then I thrust in hard to the place I need to be. She makes a sound into my mouth, and I swallow it, because I’m greedy for her. I want all of her that I can take right now, because I think—because in the back of my mind I’m sure—

It’s not the last time. It can’t be.

I feel her tears against my face. I break our kiss, horrified, and stop thrusting. “Are you okay? Did I fucking hurt you?”

“No,” she says. “Keep going. I need you. I’m…I’m scared.”

I know what it costs her to say that. Same is it costs me to admit, “I’m scared too.” I pause, then add, “Look on the bright side. Maybe it’s just unpaid parking tickets.”

And I carry her like that, my dick buried inside her, her legs around me, to the couch, so I can make love to her. Something tells me that’s what she needs right now.

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