Page 57
Fuck Riot.
My chest which has been heaving with all these pent-up emotions, catches. It aches. There’s a watery sort of pain in the back of my throat. No, I can’t leave. Not yet. Dr. Applegate was right when she talked about getting closure. I need to put my baby girl to rest. And I need to end this chapter with Riot. I can’t keep taking him with me wherever I go. Even hating him hurts too damn much.
I twirl away from the railing. Not to go inside. I’m not ready to enter hell again yet. But because I’m suddenly aware I’m not alone.
Riot stands in the light from the stairwell. His back against the door, he stares at me like he’s been watching me the whole time I’ve been up here.
“What do you want?” I push hair behind my ear with the heel of my palm, almost giving myself a new bruise in the process. And the ones Marco gave me have only just started to fade completely. I wrap my arms around my ribs. It’s not even cold yet.
“You.” He shrugs, like it’s obvious. Like this is a normal day and what he wants never changes when we all know that’s bullshit.
He wanted me, then he wanted her. God knows what he’ll want tomorrow. “You can’t have me. You have her.”
His face turns pained. He steps out onto the rooftop. “Kelsey, can we please talk?”
“I’m not ready.” I’ve been avoiding him for weeks, not wanting to listen to him try to convince me to give him the time he wants.
“I know, and I want to be patient. But when she’s—”
“We’re all bugged, remember.” And I don’t want to hear it.
“We’re fine up here,” he says. “Rook did a sweep. We can talk freely without her hearing a damn word.”
Somewhere under us, an elevator hums.
“Unless she’s on her way up to protect you from me.” Why the fuck does that hurt? I don’t want him. We’re over. So why does it cut so deep that she does?
Because he’s looking at me like we’re not over.
And there’s a little part of me that will always be with him.
But that’s all it is. “You gave her a hickey.”
“I didn’t.” He walks right up to the railing beside me. His hands wrap around the top rail.
I gape at him. I expected him to tell me it was necessary or some other stupid line. I didn’t expect him to deny it entirely. “I saw it.”
He sighs. “Maybe she gave it to herself. Maybe she got it from someone else. Hell, she could have made Lennon do it to get exactly this reaction from you. All I know is it wasn’t me. I would never mark that bitch.”
“It doesn’t matter.” But it matters so much. Because if he can’t even be honest about this... how am I supposed to believe anything he says?
“It does matter.” His hand covers my forearm. “You’re the only one I want to see wearing a mark I left. You’re the only one I have ever felt that passionate about. I promise you I’m not sleeping with her. I won’t... I wouldn’t—”
“Are you really going to try to deny it? Haven’t we already rung that bell?” Bitterness—like poison—taints every quick breath.
His head drops, obscuring his eyes. His ears and cheeks turn a dark, scalding red. When he speaks, his words are tight and controlled. “It’s you or no one.”
“I want to believe you.” I want to believe that sweet guy that became my friend still exists. I want to believe the boy who was my first real crush was worth giving my heart up for. But the truth remains. “You’re with her.”
“For you.” He raises his voice and it shakes. “I’m protecting you.”
Mine climbs too. “That’s not what I want.”
How many times can I say it? How much plainer can I be?
“I know.” He drags me against his chest. Envelops me with his arms and his face in my hair. He smells like leather, weed, and him. He smells like long-forgotten summers. And the best sex a girl could ever get. Of smoky bars and backstage celebrations. Sweet secrets. Home. My life with him before the last two years.
I miss him so fucking much. More than I can ever put into words. I love him even when I hate him. I hate that I want him.
