My Best Friend's Ex(87)

He's covering it up with you as a distraction . . .

Logan's words repeatedly sting as they play on repeat in my head. It's like he reached inside my brain, pulled out the fears I've been trying to keep hidden since Tucker and I kissed, and laid them out before me. I hate that my fears are making me insecure and causing me to question everything that's happened between Tucker and me. Has anything we've done together meant anything to him? Or have I just been a temporary escape for him from his pain? Enabling him to forget. Does he make comparisons between Sadie and me and believe he's settling for second best?

I feel so sick to my stomach. Not in the mood to do anything but lie in my bed, I change into a set of pajamas and crawl under my covers. I turn toward my nightstand, set up my iPad, and go to my Netflix app. I just need some mindless binging. As I'm searching through the TV shows, my door cracks open. Tucker sticks his head in, sees me in bed and invites himself in, shutting the door tightly behind him.

He's still shirtless and in his jeans, but now he's without his boots and tool belt. His bare feet pad across the hardwood floors in my bedroom until he reaches my bed. He sits down and pulls down the sheets that are covering my shoulders and takes in my taco-covered pajama set.

"Are you okay, Emma?" he asks after studying me for a few seconds.

"Yeah." Do not cry. For the love of God, do not cry, he will think you're crazy. "Just tired."

His hand caresses my cheek. "No, there's something bothering you. What aren't you telling me?"

Ah, why does he know me so well already?

I shake my head. "Long day."

I can tell he's not buying it but he lets it go as he says, "Okay, I'll get rid of Racer, clean up, and then I'll wrap you up in my arms. Give me half an hour to finish up everything."

"Don't worry about it. You do your thing. I can just catch you in the morning."

He lifts an eyebrow at me. "You'll catch me in the morning?"

"For breakfast?" I ask as a question. I'm really not good at this lying thing.

"So after a month of spending every night together, of not only having sex, but talking, laughing, and enjoying one another, you're just going to catch me in the morning?"

This isn't going as planned. Why can't I be more coy about things? I wear my emotions on my face, unmasked and for everyone to see, especially Tucker who's so adamant about studying my every move.

He takes my silence as his answer and nods his head. He stands from the bed and walks out of the bedroom without another word. Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I bury my head in my pillow and try to drown out the negative thoughts in my head, but I'm having a difficult time.

If he cared, he wouldn't have just walked away.

If I wasn't a distraction, he would still be in this room.

If he wasn't still hung up on Sadie, he would have pulled the covers off me and snuggled up against me.

But none of that happened. Instead, he left, and I feel cold, unwanted, and sick to my stomach. This night isn't going anywhere, so I turn off my nightstand lamp and turn away from my door. Tears fall down my cheeks as I try to comprehend how I'm going to handle the morning.



       
         
       
        

I should just end it. I should just thank him for the mind-blowing sex, shake his hand as a peace offering, and be done with it. Easier said than done. But how does one go about doing that when their heart is already invested?

More tears fall, soaking the pillow beneath me. I take in a deep breath and my door opens again and then quickly shuts. I hold my breath as I try to act as still as possible. There's no movement and I wonder if he entered the room or was just checking my door for squeaky hinges. But I have my answer when I hear him pad across the floor.

He steps to my bed and I wait for his next move. I feel so nervous. Are we about to get into a huge fight? I still as he pulls the covers down and when I think he's going to turn me over, instead, he climbs into bed behind me and wraps his arm around my waist, burying his head into my hair. He holds me tightly and the feel of his arm around me breaks me apart.

He came back.

Does that mean I'm not just a distraction?

A sob escapes me as I cry into my pillow. Every fear and emotion I've been holding back since Logan tore my little bubble apart comes flying out.

"Shhh," he coos into my ear. The arm that's wrapped around my waist falls to the hem of my shirt where he snakes his hand under the fabric, and I instantly feel comforted from the skin-on-skin contact. There is nothing sexual about his touch, he doesn't try to touch my breasts; he just holds me tight.

"I'm s-sorry," I slightly stutter.