13. Chapter 13
thirteen
Sadie
Ihummed as Parker’s lips moved down my neck. I wasn’t against having some grand makeout session with him, I just hoped he didn’t expect me to put out on the first night.
I didn’t do that.
Had never done that at all.
But I didn’t stop him either.
Because it felt good to be wanted.
To be touched like I was something sweet, not just something silly.
To have someone look at me like I wasn’t too much.
His hands were warm, his lips were soft, and his cologne was just strong enough to make me dizzy.
But not in the right way.
Not in the diesel grease and leather and a stare that could level a whole bakery kind of way.
Parker’s hands started to roam, sliding down my shoulders to my waist. I caught his wrist gently, not pushing him away—just pausing.
“I don’t sleep with guys on the first date,” I said softly, with a smile to take the sting out of it. “Not even when they buy me drinks and dare me to karaoke.”
He chuckled, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes. “Fair enough. Just means I have to take you out again.”
I nodded, even if my stomach fluttered with something that didn’t feel quite right. “Maybe.”
Maybe I’d let him.
Maybe I’d even enjoy it.
But deep down, I knew the truth:
There was only one man I wanted to kiss me like I was something sacred.
Diesel
I was sitting with my back against the scratchy old brick and just staring into space when the door opened, and Beck came out.
“You gonna mope or do something about it?” He said, kicking my boot with his foot.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Hmm. Just like you didn’t give me shit a lot like Wrecker when I was moping about Amy?”
I laughed. “Right, but that was different. You were both dancing around each other. This is definitely one-sided.”
“You’re an idiot.” He took a swig of a beer and handed me the other one. “Truly an idiot if you even think that is an ounce of truth.”
I swallowed half the bottle in one gulp. “She doesn’t even know me. Or anything about…” I trailed off. Beck was the only one who knew the whole Jessie story. How much of a doormat I had been, and I had kept taking her back again and again because I thought I loved her.
I can’t do that again. She didn’t break my heart; she wrecked it. Point blank.
Beck didn’t say anything right away. He just sat there, back against the same wall, sipping his beer like he had all the time in the world.
Which was worse, honestly. Because the silence let my brain spiral.
“I don’t have another one in me,” I finally muttered. “Another woman like that. Someone who just sees me as a phase or a safety net. I can’t go through it again.”
“She’s not Jessie,” Beck said simply.
“I know that,” I snapped, more defensive than I meant to be. “But what if I mess it up? What if she realizes I’m not the happily-ever-after type? That I’m just the fucking grumpy detour on the way to someone better?”
Beck tilted his head like I was a kid saying the sky was green. “You think she’d be baking you cookies, ogling you as you move furniture, and blushing every time you breathe near her if she was just passing through?”
I didn’t answer because I didn't know the answer.
Still, the fear clung to me like oil under my fingernails. Thick. Stubborn. Refusing to wash clean.
Beck stood up, dusted off his jeans. “You either pull your head outta your ass and go talk to her, or Wrecker’s gonna beat you to it.”
I growled. “If he touches her, I’ll—”
He held up a hand. “Then do something about it, Diesel. Before it’s too late.”
Then he was gone, leaving me alone with the cold beer, my battered heart, and the soft glow of the bakery lights across the street.
I stood up and made my way around the front of the garage, ready to—hell, I don’t even know. Talk to her? Apologize? Beg?
But then I saw them.
That smirking twat. Leaning into her like he owned the night. Like he’d earned the right to be there. His hand was on the doorframe, his mouth hovering too close to hers, and she, well, she wasn’t exactly pushing him away.
I froze.
The world went quiet.
That was what she needed, wasn’t it? Someone who made things easy. Who made her laugh? Who could stand in her sunshine without squinting?
Someone who wasn’t me.
My chest ached like I’d taken a wrench to the ribs, but I didn’t let myself think about it. Didn’t let myself feel it.
Instead, I turned on my heel, crossed the street like I hadn’t seen a damn thing, and hopped on my bike.
The engine roared to life, and I took off, tearing down the street toward my cold, quiet, empty apartment.
Where I belonged.
Alone.