I go straight home after I leave Finn's. I debate stopping into Poppy's because I feel like I need to talk or some shit, but honestly, what is there to talk about? Finn asked me to leave. That's it. But that's not just it. I have dragged him all over the place, forced myself into his life, slept in his bed for fuck's sake...and he has never asked me to leave. Not once. Until now. Why does it bother me so much?  

Finn and I are friends. Nothing more. And even though he's a miserable fuck at the best of times, I feel this little fissure of rejection taking root and winding itself around me. I'm a confident person, but this feeling...I can't take it. It hits too close to home. It hits on old wounds that should be long buried. Nobody likes being rejected, and trust me, I've had my fair share.  

I go to the fridge and take out the bottle of wine I bought last week, pouring out a big glass. I sit and watch some shitty fucking action film until I've drunk three quarters of the bottle. My doorbell rings and I frown, glancing at my phone on the table. It's nearly eleven. Who the fuck is here at this time? Maybe it's Finn coming to apologise? No one else would come over here.  

I get up, trot over to the door, and yank it open. I expect to see Finn, maybe Kyan, but no. Standing in my doorway with a holdall over his shoulder is Silas. I stagger back a step and my heart pounds in my chest. My stomach bottoms out and my legs tremble instantly. I haven't seen him in over a year but he still affects me the same way as he used to. His eyes lock with mine, the clear, crystal blue, so bottomless I could drown in them. And I have many times. His black hair is swept back to reveal the perfect angles of his face. He always was beautiful just like the poison apple, so tempting.  

"Silas." His name barely makes it past my lips.  

His eyes drop to my lips as he steps inside, his hand immediately wrapping around the back of my neck before he pushes me against the wall. I turn my head to the side and breathe hard.

"What are you doing?" I whisper. 

"I miss you, baby." He inches closer and my heart goes haywire, thumping and pounding against my chest. His warm lip brushes mine and then he kisses me, his soft lips and distinct taste of cinnamon all too familiar. My legs go weak for only a moment before I'm able to snap myself out of this fog. Placing my palms against his hard chest, I shove him away.  

 I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my heart to slow. "What the fuck are you doing here?" I try to force an edge in my voice, but I sound weak. I'm always fucking weak with him. I hate myself right now.  

"I don't know what I have to do to convince you I'm sorry." He stares at me and too many memories flood my mind. I loved him. I did...but sometimes, no matter how much it hurts, you have to know when to let go. And I let him go. 

I think of him and Teagan and that cold rage returns in an instant. Two years disappear in the blink of an eye and I'm right back in that room with him ripping my heart out. "You fucked my sister, Silas." I grab the edge of the door, holding it open because he is leaving. "There are some things so shameless, sorry won't touch it." I mean, really? Sorry I stuck my dick in your sister. God it hurts, this deep ache squeezing my heart like a fist. I don't need this today.  

His chin drops to his chest on a sigh and then he drags his hands through his hair. "I fucked up. Hope," he glances up and steps toward me, "you know I'm fucked up. Broken. I try to—"  

"Stop. Having issues is not an excuse for being a fucking prize dick." I know he's broken, I always knew.

As a naïve sixteen-year-old I found the hot older guy irresistible. I wanted to stick it to my daddy by having Silas stick it to me. I was so easily led. He made me fall for him and, as with all first loves, I fell hard. I truly believe the heart never really recovers from that. Poppy never got over Brandon even when she was happily married to Connor. The heart wants what the heart wants. And my heart is like a sick junkie begging for a fix.   

"Two years, baby...two years. Can't you forgive me?" He trails his fingers over my cheek and I have to fight not to fall into his touch. Silas has always been like a fire that has no hope of being put out completely. "You know we were right for each other." 

He steps closer and I back up until my shoulder blades are against the cool wall. I close my eyes and swallow heavily. I can feel the heat from his body. He's so close to me. His fingers sweep from my cheek to my throat, dancing along the top of my breast. My skin breaks out in goose bumps and I fight a shiver. Goddamn him. Hot breath washes over the side of my face and I turn my face to the side in an attempt to move my lips away from him. All it does is expose my neck. His warm lips press against the spot just below my ear and his tongue sweeps over the skin.  

"Baby, please..." he murmurs against my ear. 

Images flash through my mind and I remember how good he used to make me feel. His hands glide over my waist and it's all so familiar, soothing in a twisted way. He makes it hard to push him away because before he broke me he was my everything and we were perfect. I thought we had a love to rival the greats. How quickly he tore down my childish dreams. Just like that, the torturous images of him fucking my bitch of a sister spring to mind. I can never forget it. That memory is like a bucket of ice cold water being thrown at me.  

"Stop," I say, pushing against him, my nails digging into his stomach. His lips pause before he slowly pulls away, his eyes meeting mine. His dark brows pull together in a frown, his eyes searching mine.

Suddenly, he looks confused and it allows me a moment to gather myself. "Don't look so surprised, Silas. I got over you a long time ago. You need to leave."  

His hands drop from my body, but he doesn't step back. "You'll never be over me, and I'll never be over you," he says.  

I tilt my head back to look at him. "Leave."  

"Hope, I flew all the way here to see you." 

I roll my eyes. "So fly all the way back to whatever rock you crawled out from under." 

His lips curl slightly at the corner, sinking that dimple into his five o' clock shadow. Why couldn't he have gotten fat and ugly? "Well I can't fly out right now and I have nowhere to stay." 

"There's a great hotel around the corner. If you're lucky there might be an available hooker on the corner on your way over there." 

He takes an exasperated breath. "Hope...come on. It's gone eleven at night." 

I cling to my brash façade because he will not fucking dig the knife in any further. I fold my arms over my chest. "Exactly. Only one reason a guy comes calling at this time," I accuse. He stares at me for a few moments, his shoulders slightly hunched and his eyes pleading. "Jesus, fuck. Fine. You can stay on the sofa. I'm going to go and rig up a drip from this bottle of wine and face plant the wall repeatedly so, I'll be hung over in the morning. Leave before I wake up." 

Turning, I walk away from him before he can say anything else. I snag my bottle of wine from the coffee table and go to my room. The second the door closes I slide down it, pull my knees to my chest, and cry. I sit with my back against the door, drinking wine from the bottle as I cry over my ex-boyfriend who I'm so pathetically weak for that I let him stay in my apartment...after he fucked my sister. My life is such a fucking shitshow, it's a joke. I'm a joke. Pity party for one, please. Fucking hell.  

The worst thing about it all—even after two years, even after he hurt me so fucking badly—I'm still in love with him and I hate myself for it.