Darker Water (29 page)

“It was too fast.” He shook his head and gave
me what I now knew was his ‘feel sorry for me and do something to
make me feel better’ face. That look used to make my heart clench.
Now it made my stomach clench—there was a good chance I’d throw up
on him. “We didn’t know each other well enough.”

“Really?” I couldn’t hide my smile as I
leaned my hip against the back of the couch. “But you guys were
dating for, like, three weeks before you proposed. How could that
possibly not have been enough time to get to know each other?”

“I knew you’d be bitter.”

I laughed. “This isn’t bitter. This is over
it.” The bitterness stopped once I realized how much I owed
Brittany. Without her, I might be living with the bastard right
now.

“I wish it would’ve ended differently, Laney.
I want you to know that.”

“See, there’s proof that I’m not bitter. A
few months ago I would’ve been pissed by the way you phrased
that—‘it would’ve ended differently’. As if you had nothing to do
with it. As if you
accidentally
stuck your dick into someone
else and lied about it for an entire month. Or more, I guess. I’m
still unclear about the timing, but it doesn’t matter. And I’m not
mad. If it hadn’t happened, I would still be right where I was.”
Afraid to be honest with someone who’d never bothered to ask what I
wanted out of life. He’d never been to my shop, never even asked me
about my art.

I got out of that dysfunctional relationship
and now was in a much healthier, dysfunctional
non
-relationship. At least I knew Carson wanted what was
best for me. Kevin never cared about that.

“We weren’t good together,” I said.

“Yeah, we were.” He stood.

“No, we weren’t. I forgot I had my own
thoughts and needs, and you were okay with that. Didn’t you ever
wonder if I had an opinion of my own?” I was a doormat he enjoyed
wiping his feet on and sleeping with. What kind of man wants
someone like that? “I love being able to pick where I go for
dinner, to leave a place when
I
feel like it, and to not be
obligated to do what someone else wants to do.” Those were things
Carson didn’t ask for or want to control.

“I never want to go back to that,” I said.
“Not because you did anything wrong, but because
I
did. I
was afraid to be myself because I didn’t think you would stay with
me if I was, so I pretended to be someone else. Of course, the
irony is that you dumped me anyway. But I’m really happy now.”
Happier than I’d ever been. Satisfied.

I couldn’t wait to see Carson and tell him
most of it was his fault. Not because he made me happy, because he
let
me be.

It took Kevin a while to respond, as if he
were still weighing his chances. “Okay. We’ll just be friends
then.”

I nodded. “That would be…” Then I stopped
nodding. “No, it wouldn’t. I wasn’t honest with you back then
because I didn’t know what I wanted. I never lied to deliberately
hide something from you. But you did. You lied, knowing it was
lying, and you cheated, knowing it would hurt me. So no, I don’t
want to be friends.”

“People should be allowed to have a second
chance, Laney.”

“You’re totally right. People should be
allowed to choose who they let into their lives, too. I’m a
different person now and have a better life. Why would I let you
into it?”

“So, that’s it? That’s how it’s going to
end?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly how it’s going to end.”
I swung my arm towards the door, a none-too-subtle hint that he
should go. “There are no hard feelings, though. I hope you have a
great life, Kevin. I really do.”

His expression turned from forlorn to angry,
and I knew that whatever he said next would be out of spite.

“You’re fucking that guy, aren’t you?”

It couldn’t be any further from being his
business, but it didn’t matter. “Yep.”

“He thought we’d slept together and then
walked out without saying anything. Do you know what that means,
Laney? When a guy doesn’t give a shit about who you fuck, it means
he doesn’t give a shit about you. You’re just something to jerk off
into.”

“Wow. That was classy.” And an insight into
how Kevin thought of me when we were together. I regretted ever
saying anything. I regretted ever letting him into the apartment. I
regretted ever letting him into my life.

“You need to leave now, Kevin.”

He stood so quickly, I flinched backwards.
“Don’t be like that.”

I backed up a few more steps. “Go away.
Now.”

He stood there staring at me, his jaw tight.
“I care about you, Laney. More than he ever will. I never would’ve
walked out.”

“You
did
walk out, and now you should
do it again.”

“Laney, I made a mistake. I know it was a
mistake.”

“
A
mistake? Every time you chose to
fuck someone who wasn’t me was a mistake. Every time you lied to me
about it was a mistake. So it was way more than ‘a’ mistake, and
the only reason you’re here admitting it is because Brittany showed
you how I felt when you did it to me.” Duped, betrayed, and
humiliated. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but none of it had
anything to do with me.

“I said I was sorry,” he spat. He’d never
intimidated me before, but I’d never said no to him before, either.
Was this the real him? “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to leave.”

I heard a key slip into the unlocked door.
Then it swung open and Hillary came in.

“You need to keep the door locked, Lan—” She
stopped when she saw us, her gaze darting back and forth between me
and Kevin. “Sorry. I’ll just…” She sidled towards her room.

“It’s fine. Kevin was about to leave me
alone.”

He snagged the bag of pastries and his coffee
from the table and stomped out of the apartment.

“What was that?” Hillary asked.

“I have no idea.” But at least it was
over.

I spent the morning fuming about something
that I shouldn’t have cared about. Pacing and bitching at myself,
getting more and more agitated as I crossed off each excuse as
complete bullshit. Or at least not the reason I was so fucking
angry.

First reason: Lane and I were friends, and
she seemed to be backsliding into a person she didn’t want to be
anymore. So it was only natural for me to worry about her getting
back together with that fucking asshole frog.

“What the fuck did she ever see in that guy
anyway?” I asked the empty room. “He looked like more of a toad
than a frog.”

I moved on to the next reason: Lane and I
were great together. Sexually, I’d never had a better partner.
“
I
know her favorite position. Why? Because I’ve done it
with her a bunch of times, including her
first
time.” I
smacked the door. “Right there.” Her idiot ex never even tried it
with her. What kind of man sticks to one position when he’s got
someone who’s incredible and hot and generous and adventurous and
fun and—? Okay, that wasn’t helping.

So I went on to another reason: Because that
dickwad didn’t deserve her. It was a crime against humanity that he
even be allowed to touch her.

I stopped pacing, breathing, blinking, all of
it.

“Holy shit, that bastard touched her.” And he
was going to touch her again. And again. He could touch her
whenever he wanted to because she’d gone back to him.

She’d taken him back, knowing what an asshole
he was and that he’d probably hurt her again. Why would she do
that? She wasn’t the same person she’d been—how many times had she
told me that. But if she was stronger now, why go back to that
dickhead?

The thought triggered something in me, a huge
section of my life that I wished I could forget. People couldn’t
change no matter how much they wanted to or
said
they wanted
to. Lane went back to her frog because that’s what she thought she
deserved—someone who would lie and cheat.

All the things I would never do to her.
Ever.

My heart rate kicked up a few notches and my
crazy mumbling started again, cursing Lane for backsliding. She was
fucking tough. So much stronger than Renee ever was. I watched my
mother take punch after punch, slap after slap, suck in a breath
and then go right back in before the bruises were even gone. And I
couldn’t stop her.

When I’d finally understood how a man should
behave, how he should treat the people he loved, I hated my mom.
For being weak, for putting us into fucked-up situation after
fucked-up situation. It was her fault as much as it was my father’s
or the other bastards she brought into our lives, including Anna’s
dad. It was her fault because it was her choice to go back and to
take me with her.

My vision blurred, because it was my fault,
too. I could have done something to protect her. From the men and
from herself. I should’ve fought harder, tried to hit back, dragged
my mother out of the house if I had to.

I hadn’t done shit back then. I hadn’t done
shit when I saw Lane do the same fucking thing. Nothing ever
changes. I walked away from her without saying anything, even
though I knew what she was in for with that prick, how badly she’d
get hurt again. And I’d done nothing to stop it from happening.

Someone knocked on my door. I froze for a
second, trying to gain control over the uncontrollable. I shouldn’t
open it, not when my emotions were so raw. Even if I opened it to a
deliveryman, I’d probably go fucking insane on his ass. If it
was—

“Carson, it’s me,” Lane called.

Ignoring all the danger signs, I bolted for
the door, yanked it open, and dragged her inside. I slammed her
against the door as soon as it shut and kissed her. Hard.
Possessively.

If she remembered how good everything felt a
week ago, how right, then she wouldn’t go back to the frog. She
wouldn’t be able to. I had to stop her from making the wrong
decision. Protect her. I couldn’t let her turn from the person I
respected most in the entire world back into a woman she had no
respect for. She was worth so much more than that.

I couldn’t think right. My lips were on hers
and I could taste her, but everything was moving too fast. Focus. I
had one goal. One thing to accomplish in my sorry excuse for a
life—stop Lane from going back to him. How?

If I reminded her how we were together, how
good
we were together, she’d forget about Kevin. I made her
feel good. How many times had she told me that? Kevin never made
her scream or fall apart when she came. None of her frogs did.

I
did. I could make her understand she
didn’t need him by doing the only thing I was good at. The only
thing I could offer her.

As my teeth and lips moved to her neck, her
nails dug into my chest and it drove me fucking insane. Lust and
fear took over all my anger and guilt until I didn’t think anymore.
I didn’t hurt anymore. I could only
do
.

I lifted her skirt and slid my hand into her
panties, tugging them to the side. Fuck, her body was always ready,
on fire and slick. The echo of her calling my name stopped when I
took her mouth again and yanked open my jeans so I could get to my
cock. She loved this position—up against the door, hard and
dirty.

It wasn’t the sex itself that was going to
help. It was a reminder of the moments when she completely let go,
stopped thinking and judging and caring about anything or anybody
else.

“…can’t do this!” When she shouted it, I
stopped, dragging air into my lungs. I was almost inside her, my
cock already lined up to take her.

Was I already too late? She was so fucking
good. If she was with him, she’d only be with him. And she’d never
be with me again. Never.

“Just once, Lane,” I begged her quietly. “He
cheated a lot, right? So you can do it just this once.” With me.
Please, let me be with her one more time. “Just once.” I was so
full of shit. I didn’t want just once—I wanted just
always
.

“Stop!” Her eyes were huge and welling with
tears while her entire body pressed into the door even after I
stopped pushing her into it. “Please, Carson. Just stop.”

Fuck. How long had she been saying that
without me hearing her?

I jerked away, shoving my cock back in my
pants, my hands shaking. Countless apologies pouring out of my
mouth, none of them clear because they were coming out so quickly
and because my mind was too confused, bouncing from understanding
her fear to knowing I’d failed again. I failed really fucking
well.

“I wasn’t—” I stepped back, giving her room
to move. To leave.

“Stop,” she mumbled, not looking at me. She
straightened her skirt while I stood frozen, awaiting the verdict.
“You can’t do that. You can’t… I came here because we needed to
talk, not… Jesus, Carson.” She looked at me with moist, wounded
eyes, eyes that reflected the part of myself I most feared. The
part I most hated.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I
thought—” It didn’t matter what I thought. It mattered what I did
and, if she hadn’t said stop, I would have picked her up and slid
inside her without even realizing I was forcing her. “I’m so sorry,
Lane.”

“Yeah well… I don’t care.” She yanked the
door open and left, slamming it behind her.

The next week was awful. Everything seemed to
be going wrong in every part of my life. Why was that? Why couldn’t
one catastrophe happen at a time?

I was supposed to be working on the lily pad
tables, but no matter how much I looked, the right size, shape, and
quality of wood just wasn’t there. So I ended up spending all my
time looking for supplies and none of my time building or working
on any of the refinishing projects I’d been hired to do. And the
worst part was… Okay, there were two worst parts: none of that
frustration and concentration kept my mind off Carson
and
since he wasn’t around, I didn’t have anyone to bitch to.