“Privacy, huh?”

I opened my eyes and glared. “Yeah, pri-va-cy. Is the word too long for you or something? It’s only four or five syllables long.”

“No, it’s not too long for me, and it’s three fucking syllables, Leah.”

“Well, good then. I’m glad we got that sorted out –”

“Were you with a guy?” he cut in. “Is that why you’re being secretive?”

My eyes widened, and this time my vision had steadied enough to see him in his entirety. His nostrils were flared, and he was on the verge of exploding. Thing was, I was drunk, so I didn’t really care.

“Leah,” he pressed.

“Maybe I was,” I replied snidely. “What’s it to you?”

His eyes hardened. “Who were you with?”

“None of your business.”

“Who the fuck were you with aside from Melanie?”

“Someone you’ll never come close to!”

“You serious right now?”

I spread my arms wide. “SO serious!”

And so blindingly drunk.

He couldn’t genuinely be taking me for my word, right?

But no. He exploded. He pushed past me, pacing for a moment before he stopped and swiped the dishrack off the counter. I jumped when it crashed to the floor, scattering the cutlery everywhere. He rubbed his face as he paced the room some more, and I just stood there, shocked. I’d never seen him react like that before.

“So you’ll fuck a guy out there, but I’m the devil for telling you I’m not the kind of person to want a relationship!” he shouted incredulously.

“Why do you care? Every time I’m at the bar, you’re feeling some girl up –”

“So you’re trying to get back at me!”

“No, I’m not trying to get back at you.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s me telling you that you have no right to get shitty over something you do too!”

He just shook his head, looking bitterly at me like I was the one at fault. “I don’t fuck them, Leah, but now I’m thinking I might as well, right? There’s no point waiting around for you to tell me you made a mistake. Fuck it, I’m done.”

“I thought we were already done.”

“Right,” he muttered emptily. He stopped moving for a moment and took a few deep breaths. He started to look panicked. “You’re fucking with my head. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt this fucked up before, and you just enjoy winding me up, don’t you? You like me being jealous –”

“No, I don’t. Just calm down, Carter. You’re losing it–”

“Because of you!”

“Things only turned to shit when I wanted more and you didn’t! How am I to blame for that?”

“I can’t be here,” he puffed out, shaking his head repeatedly. “I can’t fucking…”

He grabbed his keys off the counter and stormed out of the apartment, leaving me completely alone and stunned speechless.

I wanted to chase after him and tell him I hadn’t done anything with anybody. That I lied just to hurt him. To make him feel a tiny shred of my pain. I just couldn’t seem to work my legs.

Some part of me needed to drive him away from me. That way he would never bring me back into his arms again and turn my world upside down. If I couldn’t have him in his entirety, I wasn’t going to be the doormat I was before, taking whatever scraps he gave me like a lovesick puppy.

Nah, fuck no.

My heart couldn’t take it.

I threw off my short heels and meandered to my bedroom, knocking into several walls on the way there. When I finally made it to the bed, I attempted to remove my pants because they were tight as hell and my stomach hurt.

Unfortunately, they only made it halfway down my legs, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open long enough to keep trying. I fell over and collapsed into the mattress, my legs hanging off the edge.

Everything went black.

*

The next morning I would awake to find myself completely in bed, jeans off, covers over top of me, with the heater blasting from the corner of the room.

That just made me cry.

Twenty-One

“Leah.”

He shook me awake, and I barely opened my eyes.

“You’ve been in here the entire day. You need to get up now.”

My head was pounding too much to move. I just shook my head. I needed sleep. Reality could wait a little while longer.

The covers went off of me, and I instantly shook from the chill. His strong arms wrapped around me and I shook my head in protest, but he didn’t care. He lifted me off the bed, and I curled into him, resting my forehead against his warm chest. He held me tightly on the way out of the bedroom, moving into the bathroom.

I didn’t understand why he was being so gentle. I’d hurt him last night. Why was he acting like nothing happened?

I opened my eyes and watched him lean into the shower stall. He turned on the water and slowly set me down. I stood, flushed against him, staring down at our feet. I felt embarrassed and uncertain. I was disgusted by my behaviour and unsure as to how I should apologize. No words seemed fitting enough.

“You smell,” he then told me, light-heartedly. “You need to clean yourself up, Angel.”

Angel.

That was the last thing I was.

I nodded weakly, but made no intention of moving. His hands grabbed at my shirt. “Lift your arms up,” he directed. When I did, he removed it and tossed it on the floor. I continued staring at the floor as he unclasped my bra and let that too drop. When his fingers snaked around the hem of my underwear, I looked up at him. He met my gaze, and he looked tired. So damn tired. And defeated.

It was my doing.

“Carter –”

“No talking. Let’s just shower and not say a word for a bit.”

“Why?”

“Because I think it’ll help.”

I didn’t see how it could. I’d been horrible, and he was being sweet.

He helped me into the shower and I stood under the spray. The fog slowly cleared, especially when he quickly threw his own clothes off and joined me. My eyes wandered every inch of his skin. It felt like an eternity since I’d seen him naked. I swallowed, but the rock in my throat bounced back up. I turned away from him so that my back faced him and ran my fingers through my hair.