Silence stretches. Her heart beats fast against me where my arm is curled around her ribs.
“You didn’t mean them?” I finally ask.
“I didn’t.”
“Then why did you say them?”
Her lower lip trembles. I hate that I make her sad, but this has bugged me all these years—why the moment I needed her most she sent me packing without an explanation, calling me names and cursing me.
“Hormonal issues,” she says. “It was sorted out later, but you were gone by then.”
Hope flares in my chest, so hot it hurts. Girl issues always go way over my head, and I don’t pretend to understand, but… “I would have come back for you,” I mutter. “I wanted to. But I thought you didn’t want me back. I thought I was doing you a favor by staying away.”
“I wanted you back the moment you left.”
My lungs expand, and I feel as if I can breathe in the sky. I stare at her, trying to rebuild my world, to fit the pieces differently than I had all those years ago.
She tucks that juicy lower lip between her white teeth, and desire returns in a mad flood. I want to kiss her until we both run out of air.
A beeping breaks through my sex-obsessed thoughts.
“Your cell phone.” Erin reaches for it on the shelves by the bed—no idea how it got there.
“Let it ring,” I say. If the Pope was calling me, I wouldn’t give a flying fuck right now. All I want is to kiss her again, lay her down and enter her once more. “Erin…”
I reach for her.
Only problem is, she’s now shifting, throwing her legs off my narrow bed and gathering her clothes from the floor. “It’s a message for you,” she says.
“What?”
She says nothing as she pulls on her jeans and sweater with snappy, furious movements.
Have I done something wrong? She knows my story now. She knows why I left, and I know why she told me to fuck off four years ago. Shouldn’t everything be fine again?
“I’m late.” She pulls on her boots. “See you around.”
I shake my head that’s still full of cobwebs. Okay, I admit I’m confused. “Erin?”
“Have to go to class, then see Tessa, and then I have to teach. If you decide you want to tell me everything, Tyler, you know my number.”
My jaw is hanging slack. I can’t formulate any response that isn’t made up of swearwords. I mean, what the fuck? It’s like I’m back to four years ago, her accusations ringing in my ears and I just can’t understand what I’ve done to deserve them.
I snap out of my blank state when she grabs her purse and heads toward the door. “Hey, wait. What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know.” She gives a little angry shrug and opens the door. “Why don’t you ask your girlfriend?”
My eyes narrow as she slams the door behind her cute ass. I grab my cell, and sure enough Marlene’s name is flashing on the screen.
Oh, what the fuck! She sent a pic of herself naked, practically shoving her tits into the camera. And they look terrible. They look inflated and fake as hell. Not like Erin’s. Soft, fitting perfectly in my hands.
Shit. Erin saw this. Dammit.
I want Erin back. Back at my side, day and night. In my bed, in my arms, at my table, on my couch—not just to mess around but to talk and laugh.
And as I fall back onto the mattress, I realize I’ve never wanted anything else so badly in my life.
Chapter Fourteen
Erin
My day is a blur. I stomp from class to class, angry with Tyler and whoever this Marlene is. His girlfriend. Who else? Don’t be an idiot, Erin. He was gone for four years. He’s gorgeous. Of course he has someone.
And you let yourself be seduced by him all over again—by his beauty, his pain, his inescapable sexuality. Jumped in with both feet, and now you have to drag yourself back out.
Mierda. This is a huge mistake. I wanted answers, and I got them. His story breaks my heart, but how do I know he’s staying this time? What if the traumas he carries inside won’t leave him in peace? I saw glimpses of the boy he used to be, but what if it was an illusion? Something that won’t last.
I can’t take provisional anymore, not with Jax in the picture. Not with my heart so broken already.
Yet, he has my name tattooed on his arm. Permanent ink. Doesn’t that mean anything?
My head hurts from this mess. Maybe he does care for me. Or maybe he had that ink done long ago. But he has a girl waiting for him, probably back in Chicago, so what does it matter?
Stop waiting for him. It’s been four freaking years.
My cell rings as I switch classrooms, and when I glance at it, I see Tyler’s number. Clenching my teeth, I shove the phone back into my bag and go to my next class.