There’s shuffling in the bedroom. Again my thoughts go back to Sam and my hands curl into fists, ready to defend myself against whoever is keeping Lucas from answering me. I strain to listen and tiptoe through the living room with my heart in my throat.
On light feet, I make it to his closed bedroom door. There are sounds coming from behind it. Sounds of a struggle.
I push open the door on instinct and prepare to swing at whoever comes at me, but freeze on sight.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, all the air from my lungs expelled with the agonizing contraction in my chest.
It’s Lucas, gloriously and beautifully naked.
And lying wrapped up in the arms and legs of a black-haired woman.
The scent of liquor and sickly sweet perfume turn my stomach and my arms wrap around my belly as crippling pain slices through me. My eyes heat and as much as I want to run from the room, I’m transfixed on the vision before me.
His sleek body moves in a punishing rhythm, his weight braced on his elbows, his biceps flexed, and his fist knotted in her hair. For a moment it’s as if I’m standing outside my own body, watching in the light of day what we did together just last night. In this room. This bed. Where I confessed my love.
And he didn’t return it.
As if in slow motion, his eyes move from the woman below him to me. The molten gray rages with a fury I’ve come to know well.
Come to love.
“Gage,” I hiccup the single word.
A slow smile curls his lips and he thrusts hard into the woman beneath him. “I love an audience.”
The woman doesn’t seem to hear him, or care, only locks her ankles at his ass.
He slams into her, his eyes still fixed on me.
She cries out and rips at his shoulders with bright red fingernails. “More,” she moans.
He blinks and looks down at her; the grin he was wearing dissolves. “You know the rules, baby.” He dips low and plunges his tongue into her mouth, the wet sound of their connection blaring in my ears.
She rips her lips from his, catching her breath from his kiss.
“Come on, don’t be Shy.” He stretches out my name while drawing out a long slide into her body.
A single tear tracks down my cheek and my heart shreds.
His gaze finds mine and his eyes flash with concern for a fraction of a second before the woman beneath him cries out, “Fuck me, Lucas . . .”
Gage blinks and rams his hips forward so hard the girl would fall off the bed if it weren’t for his hold on her hair. “Say my name again.”
“Lucas,” she moans.
He’s an animal. Why did I ever think I could trust him? Or love him.
Whatever progress I thought I’d made with Gage was nothing but smoke and mirrors, the conniving behavior of a liar. He led me to believe we were past all this, that we’d found some common ground and our goals were aligned.
We both only want to love and protect Lucas.
But love isn’t enough to endure this kind of pain.
Feeling rushes back to my legs as the reality crashes down on me. Lucas and I could never work because Gage will never allow me to get close enough. When I get within arm’s reach of capturing Lucas’s heart, Gage throws me back with a cruel reminder of where I stand.
My feet move through the house, down the steps, and to my truck and by the time I’m turned around and headed to my dad’s house, I’ve managed to break into soul-racking sobs. Wiping the moisture from my eyes enough to see the road in front of me, I blaze past my dad’s house and hit the highway with a skid of rubber and cloud of dust.
I can’t go home.
Hell, I can’t be in this town. I’ve saved enough money to get myself to Los Angeles; if Trevor can help me with a place to stay, it might not be too late to salvage my career, go back to the world of emotionless news reporting and surface relationships.
I got too close, let someone in, and paid the price. I need to put enough distance between us so that he can’t hurt me.
I point the truck to the closest road that leads out of Payson and hit the gas.
GAGE
A little pain now is better than a lot of pain later.
That’s the shit I keep telling myself as I drown my liver in booze. Hell, it’s the mantra I kept chanting just so I could stay hard enough to screw that Shyann look-alike.
My plan couldn’t have worked any better. Even though neither of us ended up getting off and I kicked her out of my bed the second Shy’s tires disappeared down the drive, it’s the illusion that did it. A finely played ruse that worked out better than I could’ve planned. Luke waking up to this mess would’ve been enough; he would’ve felt guilty, confessed, and Shyann would be out of his life for good. But no, she actually walked in and saw it. Perfect.
I’d pat myself on the back if I had the balls to do it, but there’s one disturbing visual that’s sucking all the fun from my victory. No matter how many shots of Jack I swallow, I can still see Shy’s face. The subtle changes as I watched every emotion move through those big blues like a kaleidoscope. First shock, then confusion, devastation, and finally complete destruction.
I tilt the bottle to my lips, toasting to my success.