“Will you ever stay over?” Her cheeks are flushed, her words breathless.
No. “Maybe.” I can’t tell her the truth. My body doesn’t respond to her the way it should. That’s why I like being with her. I don’t have to worry about getting hard just because she looks at me a certain way. There’s no fear of being overcome and throwing her facedown onto my bed to have my way with her.
With her, I’m safe.
She’s safe.
Content.
Happy?
“But I don’t understand.” She thrusts her fists down, punching the stiff cushions of the couch. “Your bed is, like, ten yards from mine. What’s the big deal?”
Her bed. Those two words hang heavy in the air and bring a wave of memories with them: sitting in this very spot, feeling as if I were going to claw my way out of my skin, Mac, like some gothic princess sound asleep, the sound of her nightmares and how she threw herself in my arms when she woke up.
My stomach tosses with guilt. Me. She was dreaming of me.
We were so close and I had no idea she was the little girl from my past.
Gia, my savior in the dark.
I wanted to remember so badly. I felt lost without the knowledge of my past. And now that I have it all back, I’d give it away tomorrow for the chance of one more night with Gia.
“Rex!” Emma grips my thigh and I jerk it from her hold. “What’s going on?”
I shake my head. “Nothing, I’m sorry.”
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but sometimes I get the feeling you’re, I don’t know, seeing someone else?”
“Em, no. I’m not seeing anyone else.” At least not physically. My heart is owned by another, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be happy with Emma.
She chews her bottom lip then looks up at me. “I thought guys were all about sex, you know? I mean we’ve been together now for a while and all we ever do is kiss.”
Fuck. When she puts it that way . . .
“I promise you I’d never hook up with anyone behind your back.” Frustration pricks at my nerves. I suppose I should’ve expected this sooner or later, but I’m not comfortable telling Emma about my past, not now, not fucking ever.
“What are . . .?” She narrows her eyes. “Wait, Rex, are you gay?”
Wrong. Question.
“Fuck you!” I shove off from the couch, my pulse rocketing in my ears.
“Oh, no, wait, I didn’t mean that.” Her eyes fill up with tears. “I’m sorry. It’s just—”
“I get it. You think because I’m not fuckin’ your brains out every day I must be gay.”
She jerks from my words. “No.”
“You’re right, Em. When I leave here, I have a string of women waiting who suck me off before bed.”
A sob rips from her throat.
“Why are you crying? It’s what you want to hear, right?”
“No.”
“But those are the categories a guy like me gets to choose from. I’m either a two-timing dick who fucks anything with a pulse, or I’m gay.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just trying to understand.”
“Understand what? I thought things were easy between us.”
“They are, but I want more.”
More. Fuck.
I sigh and study the coffee table. I can’t do more, not with her, maybe not with anyone. A voice in my head whispers that there’s one girl I’d give more to, but I chased her off.
“I’m sorry.” I look up at her and see the beautiful chestnut hair, the sweet face and innocent eyes. Clean. Good. Not a hint of crazy. She deserves better. God, what was I thinking? “Em, I can’t do more.”
She takes in a shaky breath. “Is it me? You’re not attracted to me or—”
“No. It’s me.” I have to give her something. She deserves something. But what? “Friends?” It’s shitty, but I mean it. I don’t want to lose her.
Her tear-filled eyes peer up at me, and a soft smile tilts her lips. “Sure. We’ll always be friends.”
My chest twists at the sincerity of her words. Damn, she’s a good woman, the total opposite of what I need.
I lean over, place a quick kiss on her forehead, then turn and walk away.
Once outside, the cool air slaps me in the face. I dig my hands into my hair and take a few deep breaths. It was the right thing to do. She may hurt now, but it’s better to cut things off before things get more complicated.
I thought having a relationship with Gia would be impossible. I mean how could I have a relationship with a girl who knows every intimate and shameful detail of my life? It would make things awkward at best. But maybe I was wrong.
Gia didn’t try to fight my demons, make them bow or wrestle them into submission. She embraced them, accepted them as part of me, loved me despite them, and arguably even loved them.
And it’s that love and acceptance that quieted them, soothed them, and kept them compliant.
After all, what is evil if it has nothing to fight?