A night where I apparently climbed on Z and acted like I always used to act, using sex to numb the world out?—
“I’m gonna be sick.”
Still clutching the comforter around me, I stumble, barely making it to the bathroom before I’m retching into the toilet.
Z is there immediately, gathering my hair back from my face, rubbing circles on my back just like Caleb used to do for his mom after her chemo treatments?—
I sob, dry-heaving now into the bowl.
“Shh, I got you.” Z’s voice is patient. Understanding. “It’s okay, babe. Just let it out.”
But it’snotokay.
Nothing is okay.
Because somewhere back in Dallas, Caleb is waking up alone. His mom is still dying. Silas is probably still in jail. His whole world is falling apart.
And I’m here. In this shitty motel room.
Having apparently fucked Z while I was blackout drunk.
I know Caleb and Z always hated each other, as much as they tried to play nice for my sake.
Three days.
It only took me THREE FUCKING DAYS to cheat on him.
I guess I was doomed to become exactly what I always feared after all: my mother’s daughter. A whore who ruins everything she touches.
I sob harder.
“Harper.” Z hands me a tissue. “Babe, hey. It’s gonna be okay. This is what we always wanted, remember? Just you and me. No one else getting in the way.”
What?I wipe my mouth with shaking hands and look up at him.
He’s smiling softly. Looking maybe… a little… pleased? Like everything is going exactly according to plan. While my world cracks apart.
“Did you—” My voice cracks. I try again. “Did youwantthis to happen? Last night?”
Something flickers across Z’s face too fast to read.
“I wantedusto happen,” he says carefully. “I’ve wanted that since we were teenagers, Harp. You know that.”
Did I?
“That’s not what I asked.”
His jaw tightens. “You kissedme. You pulledmedown onto that bed and you kissed me like you meant it. Like you’d been wanting it for just as long as I have. Was I supposed to say no?”
“If I was that drunk?—”
“We werebothdrunk,” he interrupts. “But Harper—I wouldn’t have touched you if you hadn’t a hundred percent known what you were doing.”
He stands, offering me his hand. “Come on. Let’s get you showered and dressed. We need to hit the road soon.”
I ignore his hand and pull myself up using the sink. My reflection stares back at me in the spotted mirror—red-rimmed eyes, hair a tangled mess, a hickey blooming purple on my collarbone that I don’t remember getting.
Oh God, ahickey.