“You can’t kiss me. You’re going to hate me soon, so please don’t kiss me.”
“What?” His mood has shifted. A sly smile breaks out on his face. He’s gorgeous when he smiles. His hands hold me in place tighter than before but still gentle. I missed this so much. Wyatt’s the only man I’ve ever known who can be so rough and demanding while still touching me like I’m something precious. As much as I’ve missed his touch, I’m going to miss it even more when he hates me.
“You’re going to hate me,” I say again, only this time louder. My heart breaks at the thought of pushing him away, but I do it anyway. I shove him off me and scrub my face with my hands. “You’re not going to want me when you know what I’ve done.”
My voice is raised, as if he won’t hear me unless I’m screaming. I have to get this out, though, and if it comes out as a shout, oh well. But it doesn’t seem to matter how loud I say it, because he just stares at me in bewilderment.
“I don’t know why you’re acting like this, but I’m fucking over it. My woman knows what she wants, and she goes after it. She doesn’t act like some scared little fucking girl, so knock it off. You keep this shit up, and you’re right, I might not want you.”
He’s not getting it. I need him good and mad so he can leave. If he stays here, he’s just going to get Zander and Dad’s attention, and I really don’t want that. What he said earlier—about me being different—I am. So much has happened since that month we conceived Piper. So much is different now. I’m different.
And I need him to understand, so I tell him the one thing I don’t want to. The one thing that makes me feel like shit.
“I was sleeping with Rig.” I hate the way it sounds coming out of my mouth. Nothing about that admission or the fact that it happened makes me feel anything close to okay. Letting Rig take my body is a huge betrayal to Wyatt. Huge in the way that might be worse than not telling him about Piper. I won’t tell him how it started, I can’t. Not even if it spares me his wrath. I’m not that girl.
I’m not.
Half a second after I say it, he explodes. An angry, distraught scream bellows from him. Not even in the form of words, but just pain with a side of hatred. His face screws up, with squinted eyes and a nasty snarl on his lips. I need to explain, to clarify that Rig didn’t make his move until a few years after Zander was born.
“You always wanted to fuck him, didn’t you?”
My eyes fall closed. I can’t even look at the disgust in his eyes anymore. From the looks of it, I sure led with the worse of two evils. I knew Wyatt would be angry, and I shouldn’t be surprised at the hurt on his face. Somehow, though, I am. My head feels stuffy, swollen, and it’s only now that I realize I’ve stopped breathing. I suck in a deep, shaky breath to balance myself out. I need to get a grip, or I’ll never get through this.
“When?”
I don’t catch the question until Wyatt has to repeat himself. This is different. He’s never been one for asking many questions.
“Not until Zander was three.” I force myself to open my eyes and meet his. I feel like this confession should somehow diffuse his anger, but it doesn’t. His grip on my face gets harder, so hard that it starts to hurt. I lock my jaw, forcing myself to deal with it. Old ladies don’t cry, and we sure as fuck don’t whine about stupid shit. I always try to represent my man, even when we’re not together, even when we haven’t seen each other in years. Even after this, I’ll still be Wyatt’s. Even though he won’t want me and he won’t be mine, I’ll never not belong to him. That’s what being voted in means, and for the millionth time since I ran from him, I’m grateful for it. I can’t imagine not being tied to Wyatt in some way.
“You stupid whore.” The words tumble out of his mouth with such raw pain that I can’t feel anything but sorrow. “We were together after that. You told me you’d never touched him.”
I lied.
“It’s not—” I start but clamp up immediately. The words hang there, on the cliff of a confession that I refuse to make. I stare up at my man, watching his eyes glass over and his breathing slow. He doesn’t look so much angry now as he does hurt. I don’t expect this new Wyatt, don’t really know what to make of him. The old Wyatt would have flown off the handle and called it a day. He wouldn’t be standing here. He wouldn’t be trying. The realization that he has changed, at least in a few important ways, sends a ripple of emotion flying through me. I blink back the tears.