My insides rolled over and flopped again. A coolness raced up my lower spine and the room had begun a slow spin. Air. I need air.
Blake’s voice sounded distant in the haze of my mind. “I can’t believe this. You’re going to have to tell me some Angel stories, man.” His dimple sat deep in his cheek and he didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss. He placed his hand on the small of my back, and I twisted my sweaty palms together.
“Angel?” Damon cocked his head to the side.
“Right. I always forget that’s not her real name. Eva.” Blake kissed my forehead, and I offered a weak smile.
“Oh, I have plenty to tell about Angel. Isn’t that right, beautiful?”
Blake’s fingers dug into my side, and he looked down at me for a reaction. He knew my trigger word, and I was scared he would put the pieces together.
The dryness in my mouth and buzzing in my head made it impossible to speak. A heat settled in my core as I struggled to find my voice. “Would you excuse me, please?”
I broke away from Blake. He looked to Damon, who still had a broad smile, and then back to me, his eyebrows knitted together.
“Can I get you a drink?” I asked Blake in the calmest voice I could find, giving myself a reason to leave the room.
“A glass of red is fine, thanks,” Blake answered, but I could tell by his concentrated look that his mind was somewhere other than his response.
I turned to leave, and he caught my arm. “Hey, you okay, babe?”
“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” I pulled my arm away so he wouldn’t feel my trembles.
“You’re a little pale.”
I waved him off. “Jace’s eggnog caught up with me, I guess. That kid and his heavy hand.” I smiled. “I just need some water.”
I glanced over Blake’s shoulder into dark brown eyes atop a sneer. At one time, I’d considered Damon a good looking guy. Brown spiky hair and a boyishly handsome face topped off a built upper body. You could tell he was a country club kid, born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Coming from the neighborhood we lived in, it was no secret we were all well off, but he wore it on his sleeve along with his designer emblems.
He’d been the sweet boy next door growing up. Always hanging around, flirting with Abby from the second puberty hit. I’d like to go back and smack myself for secretly being jealous at the time. I used to love to tag along and get in the middle of them, busting their chops. Even though I was sure it annoyed them, they were always cool with it and let me believe I was part of their clique. I trusted him—with everything.
But the eyes I saw now . . .
Those weren’t the eyes of that boy. I hadn’t seen him in years.
“I’ll be right back.” I took off for the bathroom.
You can’t leave them alone. I know. Shh, let me think.
I closed my eyes, rubbing circles over my temples. They fucking know each other. What kind of personal hell is this?
I dug my nails into my palms, bull breathing. Shaking out my hands at my sides, I tried to pull it together. If Blake found out, I’d lose everything. No matter what he thought, he wouldn’t be able to get past what I’d done. Kid or not, no one with decent morals would do that. And now, knowing the way Damon could manipulate the truth, I’d be done for if he ever got to his ear.
Slamming my back to the door, I fisted the hair at my temples and stared across the confined space into the mirror. Own your decision.
I stood up straighter.
Don’t let him win again. He took enough. He can’t take Blake, too. You decided to be with him, now go be with him. If he sees you falter, he’ll know and Damon will be in control. Again.
I splashed water on my face and took ten deep breaths. I couldn’t leave them alone too long, but I didn’t think he’d risk saying anything in front of Abby. Still, I wasn’t taking any chances. Bellowing laughter smacked me in the face when I opened the door.
My eye twitched.
They liked each other.
Another fissure down my heart, but I pushed on and ignored it. I filled a glass of wine for both Blake and myself, put on my big girl panties, and sauntered into the living room. I handed Blake his drink and tucked my hand into the rear pocket of his faded jeans. Damon stared at the action and swallowed visibly, no doubt choking on whatever snide remark he wanted to make.
“Ohhh.” Blake wiggled his ass against my palm, and I squeezed playfully.
Abby whispered something in Damon’s ear. He absentmindedly answered, “Sure, babe.” Still staring in the area of my hand. “Don’t you girls think you should be in the kitchen helping your mother?” he added.
Blake looked at him, evaluating his sexist remark, and then to me for my reaction. “I can give you guys a hand, too.”
My dad walked in the room. “You’re not going anywhere. I have a CD of the new band. Wanna hear it?”