by Lexi Ryan
“He knew I was nervous. Even drunk, I was scared. But I loved Heath, and I thought if you loved someone, you tried to make them happy. He stroked me through my panties and kissed my neck until I was too turned on to care about anything but my own release. When he led me out of the hallway, I thought maybe that was it. Maybe he thought it was hot to talk about it with his friend so close. But we walked back into the living room, and he looked Rich right in the eye, smiled, and told him I was . . . wet. Ready.”
Her voice shakes with . . . shame? Embarrassment? It kills me, and I want to roar my anger on her behalf, but I stay quiet, understanding that she needs to tell it all.
“I should’ve said no right then. If I had, everything would’ve been different. There was part of me—some warning siren going off in my head that said this couldn’t end well—but I blamed it on my conservative upbringing and told myself to relax. To try to enjoy it. I loved the way Heath was looking at me. I’d never seen so much hunger in his eyes or felt so desired. Heath held my hand and kissed my neck when Rich started touching me.”
She shakes her head. “Heath took pictures of the whole thing. I focused on that to get through it—focused on him watching, on him being so turned on—and then I passed out afterward. To make matters worse, Sabrina came by the next morning after Heath left for work. Rich and I were still in bed together. I was still half drunk. She flipped on the lights, and I closed my eyes against the bright light, but Rich barked at her to get the fuck out.” She swallows and wipes her cheeks again. “I didn’t even try to jump out of bed. I froze while Sabrina stared at us. She was so disgusted, and I didn’t know what to do. I was so ashamed of what I’d done that I didn’t ever tell her the truth about what she saw that morning. And when she told Heath what she walked in on, he didn’t tell her either. I was never sure whether to be grateful or upset about that.”
“Why was she even there?”
“I think Rich had texted her that morning. They were friends, and he said he couldn’t make their meeting or something.” She shakes her head, and her brow creases as if she’s still trying to make sense of what happened that day. “I suspect that he alluded to being in bed with me. I think he wanted her to see us there together.”
“Just like he wanted her to tell me last night that you two would be in his room.” I nod. Teagan had warned me that he was manipulative, but I don’t think I had any idea. Guilt roars through me. She warned me, but I was duped anyway.
She closes her eyes. “Something like that.”
“What happened . . . after? Did Heath try to make you do it again?”
“No.” She grips the back of the chair, her knuckles whitening. “The thing about fantasies is that sometimes people don’t understand that something they like to think about isn’t actually something they should act on. Not all desires need to be lived, and some fantasies are better left to the imagination. But Heath didn’t understand that. He thought he knew what he wanted, but he didn’t. And after that night, he was different. We were different. He was possessive, unlike he’d ever been. If I even looked in another man’s direction too long, he’d snap at me. He’d accuse me of wanting the fantasy all the time, say he knew he wasn’t enough for me anymore, say I’d enjoyed Rich more than I ever enjoyed him. I told him that I’d done it for him.” Her voice cracks, and tears stream down her face. “He didn’t believe me. It’s like he forgot that it was all his idea, his fantasy. It didn’t take long for me to figure out we were better off not talking about it at all. But he’d taken those fucking pictures of me in bed with Rich, and he refused to delete them.”
“Jesus. None of that was your fault.”
She swipes at her tears. “Rich was different too. It wasn’t uncommon for me to find myself hanging out with Heath and his friends, but any time Rich caught me alone, he’d whisper suggestive things in my ear. He’d say he could tell what I was thinking and knew I wanted him. When I told him I didn’t, he’d laugh and remind me that he’d gotten me off, that he’d been inside me. It kind of fucks with your head when someone tells you with such confidence that they know you better than you know yourself. He’d touched me, and I’d let him.
“Heath was struggling with what we’d done—what he’d asked me to do. Heath was struggling, but Rich . . . Rich was obsessed. He’d text me dirty pictures of couples and little snippets of his memories from that night. I was so afraid Heath would see and be jealous that I’d delete the messages, but Heath saw one come through. The day he died, before he left for work, he saw a dirty message Rich sent, and he went off the handle. Told me that if I wanted to be with Rich, to fucking leave and do it.” She draws in a ragged breath. “That was the last conversation we had, and the next thing I knew, I was burying him. Sometimes I think I only slept with Rich after the funeral to punish myself. Or maybe even to punish Heath for putting me through all of it.”
I stand and cross the room, but she keeps her gaze on the back of the chair until I touch her arm. “It wasn’t your fault.”
When she lifts her face, the tears I see streaming down her cheeks break my heart. “For years, I hated myself. It’s not like Rich raped me or Heath forced me. I let it happen. I let Rich touch me while Heath watched. I didn’t stop it. And I never told anyone because I felt so dirty. Not dirty because of what we did—I don’t have any issue with people who want to watch their partners or who want to share. It works for some. But for me, the ugliness I associate with the memory wasn’t about what we did or even about how Heath responded. I felt dirty because I’d let them make a decision that should’ve been mine.”
I cup her face in my hands and wipe away her tears with my thumbs. “I’m sorry you were cornered into it.”
She looks into my eyes for a long time, as if she’s looking for answers, before asking, “Do you remember what you said last night?”
I shake my head. We both said a lot last night. Maybe too much. “What?”
“You said that if a woman doesn’t say yes, you take it as a no. I’ve spent years blaming myself for not saying no. I still have to own that. I should have said no. I needed to use my voice, but maybe Heath should’ve had more respect for the fact that I never said yes.”
I throw all my plans to keep my distance out the window and pull her into my arms. I cradle her against my chest and stroke her hair as she cries for a choice she was never given. But maybe she’s crying for more than that. Maybe these are tears for the man she never got to say goodbye to. Maybe these are also tears for Carter and Teagan, for the damage one man’s recklessness four years ago did to something young and promising between us. If it hadn’t been for Heath, Teagan wouldn’t have worked so hard to push me away. But if it hadn’t been for him, she may have never moved here.
I hold her tighter, letting her cry, letting myself relish the comfort of her presence. I hold her the way I held Max’s hand after they turned off the machines. I knew he was gone but I didn’t want to let go.
I don’t know how long we stand there, but when she pulls away, she’s no longer shaking and she stands a little taller, as if the weight’s been lifted off those beautiful shoulders. Does she have any idea how strong she is?
“Thank you for listening to me,” she says softly, stepping back. “I’m sorry I didn’t have the courage to tell you before.”
I reach for her, then force myself to put my hands back at my sides. “Thank you for trusting me with your story.”
She tucks her hands into her pockets. “I should go.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to invite her to stay when she says, “You’re right. We both need to figure our shit out before we have any business trying to figure us out.”
“Teagan, please . . .”
“Don’t.” Pain flashes over her features, and I hate that I played any part in putting it there. “Don’t make this harder.”
Swallowing, I nod. I knew this was coming, but it doesn’t change the fact that it breaks something inside me, makes the words I love you sit like rocks in my gut. “Let me know
if you need anything?”
She rises onto her toes and kisses my cheek. “I think you’ve already given me more than I deserve.”
Teagan
“This emergency girls’ night is called to order,” Shay says, lifting her beer.
“Hear, hear!” Ellie taps her glass to Shay’s.
I grin at my friends. “Thank you, ladies. I’m grateful for you.”
Shay, Molly, Ellie, Nic, and I are all gathered into the booth at the back of Jackson Brews. Ava’s at home with Lauren, who has a nasty little baby cold, but I’m glad the rest of them found a way to meet up with me. Girls’ nights have become a rare exception rather than a rule over the last year or so. Everyone’s so busy.
“So,” Ellie says, folding her arms and leaning forward. “What’s the emergency? Teagan, are you pregnant?”
All the eyes at the table go wide and turn to me.
Shay visibly brightens. “Do I finally have an excuse to kick Carter’s ass for this whole ‘we both need space’ shit?”
Nic presses her hands to her mouth, and tears spill onto her cheeks in the space of a heartbeat. “You’re pregnant?”
“Oh my God.” I shake my head. These women are way too used to drama if they jump to such extreme assumptions. “This is how rumors get started.”
“Who’s pregnant?” Jake asks, stepping up to our table with a notepad in hand. He follows the gaze of everyone at the table to me and takes a half step back. “Holy shit. Does Carter know?”
“Stop. This womb is vacant, and I’m planning to keep it that way for a while yet.” I can’t help it. I laugh.
In addition to giving Carter space the last two weeks, I’ve been giving myself some space. I’ve needed it. I carried around an ugly secret for more than four years, and now that it’s off my chest, I’ve actually been able to spend some time figuring out who I am.
“What about your stomach?” Jake asks, wielding his notepad. “Any plans to have new tenants there?”
Nic frowns. “That metaphor is weird. And not at all appetizing.”
“Yeah,” Jake says. “The second I heard myself say it, I regretted it.”
“Jake,” Ellie says, leaning forward on her elbows to get a better look at Shay’s brother. “Levi said he heard that Easton Connor is looking for a vacation home in Jackson Harbor. If he needs a real-estate agent, please put in a good word for me.”
Shay’s eyes go wide. “What? Easton . . . What?”
“Who’s Easton Connor?” I ask, then the familiar name clicks into place in my mind. There are Connor jerseys all over town. The guy is Jackson Harbor’s single claim to NFL fame. “Easton Connor, the quarterback?”
“Yeah,” Ellie says. “He grew up here, and now he’s looking for a vacation home or something.”
“Why?” Shay says, looking between Ellie and Jake. “He doesn’t have any family here anymore. He . . . Why?”
Jake frowns. “Why not? It’s not like he can’t afford it.”
Ellie clears her throat. “The favor?”
He shrugs. “Easton and I haven’t really kept in touch. He was better friends with Carter than with me. Ask him.” He taps his notepad. “So, what can I get you ladies?”
“Goat balls,” Nic says.
“And cheese fries,” Ellie adds.
Molly and I exchange a look. These girls can eat anything and still fit into their clothes. “Jake,” I say.
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Grilled chicken on lettuce for you two and my sister, but don’t you dare tell anyone I’m serving that crap here. Or everyone’s going to order it and then they’ll stop coming because it’s not good food.”
“Thank you, Jake,” Molly and I say in unison as he walks away, but Shay doesn’t say a word. She still looks shell-shocked by the football player news.
I nudge her. “You okay?”
“Sure.” She draws the corners of her mouth up, but I know her too well to call it a smile. “Why?”
“Is there something between you and Easton Connor?” I ask softly.
“What?” Nic squeaks.
Apparently not softly enough.
“No,” Shay growls. “There’s nothing between us. He was my brothers’ childhood buddy and a pain in my ass for years. That’s it.”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Ellie says, earning a scowl from Shay.
“Carter could have at least warned me about this,” Shay grumbles.
“He and Carter are friends?” I ask. I don’t know if I’m bothered by the fact that Carter never told me about his friendship with a future NFL Hall of Famer or impressed that he didn’t brag about it.
“I don’t think Easton’s friends with anyone around here anymore,” Molly says, and the look she exchanges with Shay is heavy with meaning. There’s definitely a story here that I’m missing out on.
Ellie talks about the mansions she’s dying to show the quarterback, and the girls—all but Shay, that is—talk about what they know about his personal life and what it might be like to have him live part of the year in Jackson Harbor.
Jake returns with our food and leaves again before Ellie remembers that she was giving me the third degree about what’s happening with Carter.
“So you’re not pregnant,” Ellie says. “But have you and Carter reunited yet?”
“We’re still giving each other space.”
“I can respect that,” Ellie says, but Shay grunts and pokes at her salad. She’s definitely team Just Get Back Together Already. Honestly, I’m coming around to that side too, even if I know this time is for the best. I miss him.
“Cool, cool,” Molly says. “What, exactly, are you doing in that space?”
Figuring myself out? Trying to believe I’m worthy of him?
I had a long talk with Mom and Dad before they left town. I didn’t tell them everything, but I explained Rich’s manipulative behavior after Heath’s death, explained how I left because it felt like the only way to escape him. Mom was devastated that she didn’t see it, and Dad was upset that I didn’t tell them. We talked and talked some more, and by the time they went home two days after the wedding, I felt closer to them than I have in years.
In a way, I think I’ve done more grieving for Heath in the last two weeks than I did in all the years before. I couldn’t fully let him go until I forgave him, and I couldn’t forgive him until I forgave myself.
I heard through the grapevine—a.k.a. Shay—that Carter’s been spending all of his time finishing his renovations on the attic so Isaiah can move in with him. I was happy to hear it, even if it made me a little sad to know I was unaware of such a major change happening in his life.
The girls all stare at me, and I realize I never answered Molly’s question. “It all started in such a messy, unintentional way. I want us both to be sure.”
“And are you sure?” Nic asks.
I swallow hard, but the emotion surges through me—the ache of wanting something that’s so close but not yet in my grasp. “So sure.”
“Oh, I see what’s happening,” Ellie says, sitting back and studying me.
“What?” Shay asks. “Because, honestly, I don’t get it.”
“She thinks Carter isn’t sure,” Ellie says, reading me way too well.
Shay snorts. “Well, that’s ridiculous. He’s practically lovesick. I thought you were punishing him, but if this is you waiting to make sure he really wants you, you’re wasting your time.”
Ellie nods. “He’s been working out with his brothers again. Did you know that?”
I straighten. I didn’t know that, but it’s a sign that he’s getting back to his life as it was before the warehouse fire. “That’s good.”
“Do you remember that Levi and I took a month apart after everything with Colton?” Ellie asks, and everyone at the table leans in. We were all around for the days before Colton’s arrest and after they released him. They were hard days. “This morning at the gym, Carter asked Levi how he did it. Carter said he doesn’t want to wait anym
ore, but he doesn’t want to rush you either.”
My throat is thick. “He really said that?”
Ellie’s eyes are bright as she nods. “Yes, and Levi told me that he told him that it was hard but worth it. Levi said that he had to wait for a signal from me that I was ready.”
Shay arches a brow. “So you’re saying we need to flash the Carter Bat-Signal in the sky?”
Ellie and Molly look at each other and burst into laughter.
“Something like that,” Ellie says.
Nic beams and nods. “I love it. And Isaiah is staying at his grandma’s tonight.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Molly asks Nic, who nods enthusiastically.
“What am I missing?” I ask.
Shay sighs. “I think they’re going to dress you sexy and send you over to seduce my brother.”
“The Carter Bat-Signal,” Ellie says, as if that explains everything.
“It would be the sign he’s waiting for,” Molly says, grinning.
“Oh.” I bite my lip. “Yeah, I could be up for that.”
“Sustenance first,” Molly says, winking at me and pointing to my salad. “You’ll need it.”
Carter
When I answer the door and see Teagan for the first time in two weeks, I’m shirtless, sweaty, and covered in drywall dust. She looks me over, her gaze snagging on my bare chest and then my toolbelt. I’m a mess, but she’s . . . perfect. She’s wearing a red dress that hugs her from its high neckline all the way down to the hem beneath her knees, and with it, those sexy heels with the ribbons that wrap around her ankles.
“Nice shoes,” I say.
“Thanks. Nice tat.”
My breath stalls in my lungs as she reaches out and wipes the white dust off the new lotus tattoo on my left pec. “Thanks.”
She keeps her hand there as she lifts her gaze to mine. “Is it okay that I’m here?”
Every second I’ve been away from her has killed me. I’ve kept myself from calling her at least thirty times. Deleted dozens of half-composed texts. And now she’s here, and nothing else matters. “Yes.” I sound breathless.