Ten minutes later, I hear the front door open behind me. Turning my head, I find him standing there looking all smug and delicious. Great. Everything in me wants to get up and walk away, but that’s not the adult thing to do. As angry as I am at him, we’re not teenagers anymore.
“I was wondering where you got to,” he says coming to sit beside me. “Here, I brought you something to drink.” He holds up a glass of wine. I have a good mind to tell him to jam it up his smug arse, but the truth is, I need it.
“Thank you,” I reply reaching for it, but he pulls back his hand. I narrow my eyes at him. Ugh! “I see some things haven’t changed. You’re still an arsehole.” He laughs at my comment like it’s funny. It wasn’t meant to be funny.
“I’m just messing with you,” he says passing it to me for real this time. He’s already removed his tie and suit jacket. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing a full sleeve tattoo on his arm. He didn’t have that last time I saw him. It only serves to make him look even more like a bad boy. Three words come to mind—Sexy. As. Hell. I hate that his presence still has a huge effect on me.
I find myself wondering what his life’s been like since he left. A long time has passed since we were last together. Going by his past, he’s probably still a man whore. I hate it that that thought upsets me. “So how have you been?” he asks taking a pull of the beer in his hand.
He must’ve been wondering the same thing as me. I shrug. Is it wrong that my eyes are focused on his lips wrapped around the head of the bottle? I remember all too well what those lips felt like. Being near him again seems so surreal.
“It’s had its ups and downs,” I answer with a shrug. His eyes lock with mine. The look I see on his face is so intense I have to turn away, taking a huge gulp of my wine. I’m not sure if I can have this conversation with him. It’s funny; for years I longed for him to return, and now he’s here, I wish he wasn’t.
“How’s my man, Larry?” he asks, breaking the awkward silence. My heart sinks. He hasn’t been around, so I guess he doesn’t know. “Would you mind if I went to see him? I’ve thought about him a lot over the years.” Just hearing him ask that has tears rising to my eyes. I quickly lower my face so he can’t see them.
What I wouldn’t give to see Lassie again. Reaching up, I grab hold of the necklace Carter bought me, clutching it in my hand. I took it off after he left, but when Lassie passed I put it back on. The necklace and the picture Carter drew are all I have left.
“He died,” I choke out. Even after all these years it still breaks my heart whenever I think about him. When I think about what happened.
“What?” he says in a tone that makes me think he doesn’t believe what I said. I wish I was lying. My eyes move back to Carter’s. Even through my tears I can clearly see the colour drain from his face. “Fuck,” is all he says as he puts down his beer and engulfs me in his arms. I go willingly, burying my face in his chest. “What happened? He was still young … so healthy.” A sob escapes me as the memories of that morning flash through my mind. I don’t think I’ll ever get over that day.
“It was all my fault,” I admit for the first time ever. I’ve always known I was the reason behind Lassie’s death, but I’ve kept that to myself all these years. The truth was just too hard to live with. I’m ashamed that my childish actions were the result of his death.
“What? How?” he asks in disbelief as his hand strokes my back to comfort me. I can feel his body trembling as he holds me. I know he loved Lassie as much as I did, so I’m sure he’ll be upset by my news. For some reason I don’t hesitate to tell him the truth, it’s time I confessed.
I keep my face buried in his chest. I can’t bring myself to look at him. I don’t want to see the judgement in his eyes when he hears what I have to say. “After you left, I was so angry with your stepfather. I knew in my heart he was part of the reason you went away. Every day, for weeks, I threw Lassie’s droppings over the back fence into his yard. It was my revenge. My way of saying ‘fuck you’ for the way he treated you when you were here. At the time it felt so good. I knew it would piss him off, I just didn’t know how much.” I feel his body stiffen.
“Did he do something to him?” he asks, grasping my shoulders and pulling me back so he could see my face. Yes he did. Fucking arsehole. I hope he rots in hell.
“Yes,” I choke out as memories of that morning flood my mind. I can clearly see the anger cross his handsome features when I admit that. He stares at me for a moment before pulling me back into his chest.