Claire

2018

I realize, at least on some level, that I’m not being completely fair. If I allow myself to remember what happened between us objectively, I can admit that I was the one driving the bus. I was the one directing traffic. I was the one who made it all happen.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he made me feel.

I know that sounds stupid. I barely knew Jaxon. He never promised me anything. Never told me loved me. Never planned for the future. Our entire relationship spanned the space of a single night.

But that night felt more real to me than anything I’d ever experienced before. I felt like myself. I felt like Jaxon saw me. Who I really am, not who I pretended to be.

The lesser twin.

The dutiful daughter.

The one who always gets left behind.

Me.

I thought he saw me. Wanted me. But I was wrong. Even now, it’s not me he wants. Not really. He wants to prove that he mattered. Assuage his own guilt about what he did to me. Feel better about the fact that he used me and then left.

“He’s hot.”

“Who’s hot?”

I look up away from the window to see Bri give her friend, Helena, a puzzled look. Friend is a stretch. Helena is more of a co-worker. They’re both junior editors at Swoon, a local fashion magazine.

I don’t even have to look at her to know who she’s talking about. She’s talking about Jaxon.

I think about the two of them together and feel sick. She gorgeous. Auburn hair. Big, brown Bambi eyes. Killer rack.

Sitting next to her, I feel like a mouse.

A pasty-faced, flat-chested mouse.

“The driver.” Helena tilts her champagne flute at the privacy partition. “Fucking. Hot.”

“He’s like seven feet tall,” Bri says, wrinkling her nose. Tall guys have never been her thing.

“I know.” Helena shoots a predatory grin around the interior of the car, staking claim. “And before the night is over, I’m going to climb him like a jungle gym.”

Say my name.

I press my knees together self-consciously. My body’s still humming from the orgasm Jaxon gave me.

Despite the fact that it was reckless of me to let him touch me—reckless and stupid—I want him to do it again.

Why? So he can break your heart again. Spent the night making you feel and want things you never thought possible, just so he can disappear like before. Make you feel like maybe you’re worth sticking around for, just to get the rug jerked out from under you.

No. It’s not worth the risk.

“Finish your drinks, ladies,” Jaxon’s deep voice, booms through the speakers. “We’re pulling up to the restaurant.”

Bri and her friends start to shout, toasting each other.

WHOO, GIRL’S NIGHT!

WE’RE HAVE SO MUCH FUN!

WE’RE GETTING LAID TONIGHT!

Seconds later the limo pulls over, and I hear Jaxon climb out of the car. I watch him pass by the long, tinted window, moving toward the back of the car before he opens the door and his hand appears in the wedge. One by one, he helps Bri and her friends from the car. I can hear them on the sidewalk, squealing and laughing. Having the time of their lives.

Meanwhile, I’m drowning.

“Claire.”

I look up to see Jaxon’s face in the doorway. His gaze unflinching. Direct. Worried.

Fuck that. He doesn’t get to worry about me. Pretend he cares. Because he doesn’t. He made that perfectly clear the night he fucked me and then left me without so much as a goodbye.

Without answering, I down the rest of my champagne and toss the empty flute onto the leather seat beside me.

Scooting across the seat, I ignore his hand, climbing out of the car on my own. It’s awkward, but I manage. As I walk past him, he snags my arm, pulling me back to press his mouth to my ear. “I’m sorry, Claire.” Like he can read my mind, he gentles his grip on my arm. “I never meant to hurt you I never wanted to—”

It happens again. The rollercoaster feeling only he can give me, and I feel myself bending. Melting. Giving in to him and the way he makes me feel.

Don’t

Don’t trust.

Don’t feel.

He’ll only hurt you again.

He’ll leave you, just like last time.

I pull my arm from his grip and shake my head.

 “I don’t believe you.”