Say You're Mine(52)

“You’re just like him.”

She shifted on her feet. “Like who? Holt?”

“No. He lied and my men—” He stalked toward her, but forced himself to stop. If he touched her, he wasn’t sure what would happen. And he was done talking about what happened to him. Done opening up to her, when she clearly didn’t care. “You know what? I’m done here. Good-bye, Lauren.”

She shook her head. “Steven.”

“The last time I lost everything because of a lie, I swore to never forgive”—he pointed at her—“a liar. That’s you. I know you don’t get it, and you probably think I’m being harsh. But there are some lines I can’t cross anymore. For my sanity, so that I can get through the next day—trusting the people I have in my life—that’s what is most important. And I stand by that promise I made.”

“I’m sorry.” When he tried to walk past her, she threw herself in his arms and hugged him, holding on tight. “I refuse to let you go. I’m sorry, and I shouldn’t have lied, but I love you. Don’t push me away. Don’t do this.”

He ached to wrap his arms around her and hug her close. Tell her he forgave her, that he would forgive her for anything. But he didn’t, because he didn’t.

He shouldn’t be so surprised it was ending like this. He knew deep down, all along, that he didn’t deserve a happy ending. It was fitting he wasn’t getting one.

Gripping her shoulders, he tugged her off and set her down, at arm’s length. “Don’t follow me. Don’t call me. Just leave me the hell alone.”

Then he stormed past her.

She let him this time.

“You promised,” she called out, her voice laced with pain—that he caused her. He didn’t have a fucking clue what to do with that yet. With any of this. “You promised you’d never leave me.”

He stiffened, his fists clenched tight, and his jaw even tighter. “And you promised you wouldn’t lie to me.” He took another step. “Guess we’re even.”

A small, broken sound escaped her. “If you leave now, if you walk away from me, I…I won’t let you back in. I won’t forgive you. This was the one thing I was scared of, and you promised you wouldn’t let it happen. I trusted you. So if you do this…” She choked on a sob. “I’ll never forgive you. Only walk away if you’re ready to accept that.”

Shaking his head, he swallowed hard. His brain was at war with his heart. Lying was his one thing that would break them apart, and she knew it. She’d done it anyway.

He could, too.

So he walked away before he did something stupid.

Walked right over the flowers he’d given her, crushing the red petals into the pavement. Lauren sobbed behind him, but he didn’t look at her. Didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

The whole way back to his place, he went over the fight. He replayed it in his head, again and again, until it became scratched and sketchy, like an overplayed record. And he still felt like shit. Still wanted to scream and punch things.

Still wanted to go back and tell her he was sorry.

But what the hell was he sorry for?

He got that she was worried about him. He did. But all along, he’d been very clear that honesty in a relationship was the only thing he required. And she’d ignored that.

He didn’t know how to accept that, or move on.

Or if he even could.

He stopped in front of the bar he’d been in the night he and Lauren first hooked up. The night she called him and begged him to come to her place. She’d been upset, and he could obviously tell something was up. He just hadn’t thought she would lie to him like that. Had never suspected that.

Flexing his jaw, he ripped the door open and stumbled inside. He hadn’t had a drink in almost a week. No time like the present to make up for lost opportunities.

We were worried about you. You were drinking yourself into a grave.

Yeah, well, watch him do exactly that.

Settling down at the bar, he pulled his wallet out of his pants and opened it.

The bartender—a pretty little blonde—came over, interest clearly written all over her face. She was wasting her time. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ll take a double shot of Scotch, and another.” He tossed forty dollars on the bar. “Keep them coming till I look like I don’t need any more.”

She took the money and shoved it in her bra, frowning. “Let me guess. A woman…or a man?”

He didn’t answer.

“Yep.” She shook her head. “Definitely a woman.”

He watched her walk off, hips swinging, and felt nothing. Nothing toward her, anyway. Now, toward Lauren? He felt it all. Grief. Pain. Anger. Betrayal.