Declan was gone by eight o’clock, leaving without so much as a see you later. With him gone, Tess and I managed to push our way through more than half of the trucks before noon, neither one of us wanting to drag it out any longer than necessary. Regardless, if Tess doesn’t eat every couple of hours, she gets shitty, so I sent her to grab some food, so I won’t want to string her up by the end of the day.

Tossing my phone onto my desk I sit back in my chair and stare at my computer screen.

Thank you.

What the fuck does that mean?

Thank you for offering to pick me up and going with me to look for my drunk dad.

Thank you for fucking me.

Thank you for making me come so hard I lost feeling in my lower extremities.

I have no idea, so instead of trying to figure it out, I let it go.

And she’s not busy either.

It’s her lunch break. She’s sitting at her desk, picking her way through a Caesar chicken salad and playing Mahjong Titans on her computer.

Okay, so I might’ve hacked into the library’s surveillance system.

And installed spyware on her computer camera.

Don’t judge me.

It’s a well-established fact that I’m a stalker. I’m also a manipulative bastard, a condescending asshole and an unrepentant manwhore.

And a pathetic shitsack.

Let’s not forget that one.

Truth is, I don’t know why I did it. I told myself it was because I promised Ryan I’d look out for her and even though I’m the human equivalent of a dumpster fire, I keep my promises. That’s what I told myself when I hacked the library mainframe at 5AM but lying to myself is one of my favorite things to do, so who really knows for sure.

Like I said, introspection isn’t really something I like to indulge in.

Besides, it’s not like I’ve spent hours sitting here, watching her. I might be a pathetic shitsack, but I haven’t tipped into full-blown Declan territory.

Not yet anyway.

I can see her staring at her phone, trying to figure out what I want. Why I’m bothering her. It makes me angry because she started this whole fucking thing, not me. I’m not the one who waltzed in on designer heels, dripping in diamonds, and with the crook of a finger, started unraveling her goddamned life.

I was fine.

I was fucking fine.

Living my life.

Okay, so things weren’t all unicorns and lollipops, but I had it handled.

I had Tess. My family. My books. A few down and dirty tricks to keep myself sane. I didn’t need anything else. I’d learned to function without her.

And she destroyed it all in the time it took her to say three simple words.

That’s my book.

I mean, I could’ve survived the sex.

Before her, it was little more than a biological function. Like eating or breathing. Something I had to do keep myself level. Feel normal.

Last night was something else entirely. Making her come is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Even now, I can still feel her pussy, slick and tight, around my cock. Her wrists trapped between my fingers. Her nipples, hot and swollen on my tongue. The desperate pump of her hips against mine, her need for release making her shameless.

For me.

Watching her come undone is addictive. Knowing it’s me. That I’m the one. Taking her. Having her.

That I’m the only one who has.

Yeah, that’s something else entirely. Woke up a part of me I forgot existed.

The part of me that needs her. Can’t survive without her. Would do anything to keep her.

Trust me, I understand just how messed up this whole thing is. But as messed up as it is, I could’ve survived it. It would’ve been hard, and I probably would’ve died never having fucked another living thing ever again, but I would’ve lived.

But I didn’t just fuck her.

I asked her to kiss me.

Because I’m a self-destructive asshole who obviously gets off on hurting himself.

I know that sounds weird.

That kissing her is more damaging than fucking her but nothing about me makes much sense, and I stopped trying to figure myself out a long time ago.

The first girl I ever kissed was named Penny Wilson. Ryan and I snuck into her basement during a slumber party. We were playing Spin the Bottle. I didn’t want to kiss her, but I did because I was thirteen and I was supposed to want to. That’s what a normal, heterosexual guy my age would do. If a pretty girl was willing to kiss him, he’d kiss her. He’d want to.

So I did.

And I felt absolutely nothing.

I’d known for a while that there was something wrong with me. That I don’t feel things the way I should. That I’m broken.

Kissing Penny Wilson just proved it.

But I kept doing it. Made myself do it because that’s what was normal and if I couldn’t be normal, then I sure as fuck was going to act like I was.

Before I knew it, I was seventeen and had plowed my way through more girls than I want to remember. I earned a reputation for being a slut when all I was trying to do was feel normal. Feel something.

Something real.

Looking at Henley over the top of her broken down backpack, watching her rip her calculus notes from her notebook to give to me, was the first time I ever felt for someone who didn’t have my blood pumping through their veins.

I liked her.

Cared about what happened to her.

Wanted to make her happy.

Take care of her, even if she didn’t want me to.

Henley was the first girl I ever wanted to kiss.

Walking her home at night, I’d think about it. What it would be like to kiss her under the street light outside her building.

I’d lay awake at night and wonder.

What she’d look like, right before I did it.

What it would feel like.

What she would taste like.

How it would feel when she kissed me back.

I wanted to know.

I wanted to kiss her.

But I didn’t.

Couldn’t.

I told myself it was because I didn’t want to scare her, but really, I’m the one who was scared. I was scared shitless because what if kissing her felt wrong. What if I kissed her and I stopped wanting.

Stopped feeling.

Even worse, what if I did feel. What if kissing her was everything I’d hoped. What if kissing her somehow fixed me. Made me real.

And what if she took it all away.

She thought it was because I didn’t want her. That there was something wrong with her when really, it was all me. I’m the one who was fucked up.

Still am.

So fucked up that even though I know how this is going to end for me, I can’t stop. I can’t walk away from her. Even though I know she’s going to use me and hide me and refuse to let me get close, I won’t be able to say no.

After I left her place last night, I drove around for hours, trying to get my head right. Figure out how I’m going to make this work. Keep seeing her, fucking her, without dying every single time I touch her. At around 2AM I came to the cold, hard truth.

I can’t.

It’s either pull out of this nosedive now, while there’s still a goat fuck’s chance in hell that I’ll make it out without losing my goddamned mind, or I keep diving and hope the crash kills me.

Because if I keep chasing this thing with her, it’s going to end ugly.

There’s no way it can end any other way.

She’s not going to stay. She won’t take me with her. She’s not going to love me. She’s not going to let me love her.

Not the way I want to.

So, it’s not really a question of if.

It’s just a question of when.

By the time Tess gets back from lunch, I have three more trucks serviced and parked out on the tarmac, waiting for pick-up.

“Brought you food,” she says, tossing a bag onto the workbench. “Take a break and eat, let me finish this one.”

“Can’t.” I pop off the fuel filter and toss it in the trash. “I’m supposed to take Henley to see her old man in a few hours, so I need to get this shit done as soon as possible.”

When she doesn’t answer me, I lift my head and look at her. She’s standing a few feet away, watching me the way you watch someone who has a terminal illness. Like she’s trying to figure out when I’m going die. It bothers me, but instead of getting into it with her, I give her a grin. “I’m good,” I say, nodding my head, even though it’s the biggest fucking lie I’ve ever told her. “I promise.”

She studies me, lip ring caught between her teeth. She wants to believe me, but she knows better. “Let me take her,” she says, shaking her head. “I know where to—”

“No.” The word comes out sharper than I intended, and I sigh when she visibly flinches. Straightening myself, I reach up and pull the hood down to slam it shut. “I promised Ryan.”

“Yeah… that’s what this is all about.” She laughs, the sound of it harsh and angry. “You promised Ryan.”

I know she’s gone. I know she’s probably never coming back, but I need you to look after her, Con. I know you can do that. I know you can do a lot of things you don’t want people to know about and I want you to do those things to make sure she’s okay. Promise me you’ll take care of her.

That’s what Ryan said to me after he enlisted. It was just me, standing with him in the bus station parking lot, next to the bus that would take him to basic training. There was no one else. Everyone else had either abandoned him or was too ashamed in themselves to show their face.

Promise me you’ll take care of her.

And I did. Even though the thought of her felt like hot needles were being jammed in my eyes and punched my lungs full of holes, I promised him.

I like to believe I’m keeping that promise because I’m a good friend. Because Ryan is family and I take care of what’s mine, but really, it’s about her.

It’s always about Henley.

Everything is.

“We’ve got four more.” I toss her the keys and jerk my chin at the concrete pad in front of the shop. “You want to argue, or you want to work?”

Tess snaps the keys out of the air and clenches them in her fist. For a second, I think she’s going to throw them at my head. She doesn’t. She just shoves them in her pocket. “You got it, boss.”