Chapter 25
MIA
“Mia, what’s going on?”
Isn’t that the million dollar question?
What isn’t going on with me today? But it’s nothing I want to unpack right now.
Not with him. Not with anyone, actually. In fact, if I could just avoid it forever… yeah, that would be preferable.
“Nothing, Swayze, just leave it. I need to take a nap for a couple of hours.”
“Mia, if I’ve done something to upset you or make you uncomfortable, I need to know. You couldn’t have been stiffer out there this morning.”
“Ha, neither could you from what I could tell.” Forcing a smile, I wink at him. But I’m fooling no one.
His brows furrow and he rams his hands in his pockets, sighing in exasperation. “Don’t deflect this with humor, please, Mia. Talk to me. Don’t make this another Halloween thing.”
Crossing my arms, I glare at him, struggling to ignore the rushing sound intensifying in my ears. My body overheats, every nerve on edge. The problem is, I don’t know who I’m pissed at.
Him or me.
Okay, that’s a lie. It’s solidly me. But if I have to talk about it, then I have to admit it out loud, and I’m not ready to do that.
I look away from his intense gaze, taking another deep breath to center myself.
“There’s nothing to talk about, Wolff. It’s nothing like Halloween. Last night, I knew it was you fucking me. I freakin’ goaded you into it. But it was a mistake, Swayze. One we can’t afford to repeat. It was irresponsible and stupid. We need to remember what this is and not blur the lines.”
He stills, going deathly silent.
I risk glancing over and our gazes collide, his icy eyes haunted by things he isn’t saying.
Holding my breath, I wait for him to bite back. To say something—anything—I can twist into an argument.
Instead, he nods, just once, the muscle in his jaw ticking erratically. “Okay.” His voice is low, measured. “If that’s what you want.”
My hands fall to my sides as he slowly walks toward me, our eyes still locked. My heart stops beating altogether when he stops directly in front of me with barely an inch between us.
“But for the record, Mia...” He pauses, his hand ghosting the curve of my face. It takes everything in me not to close my eyes and lean into it. “You didn’t goad me into anything I didn’t already want. You just gave me permission.”
My breath hitches, his words making my heart trip over itself. His eyes drop to my mouth, lingering there with such intensity I forget how to breathe. My pulse riots, thundering in my ears while I track his heated gaze, convinced he’s going to kiss me.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he tugs a leaf from my hair and hands it to me, our fingers sparking as they brush. Without saying another word, he turns on his heel and walks back out the door.
The breath I’ve been holding rushes out of me and I slump back against the wall hugging myself.
Tears burn my eyes and I’m so sick of holding them in.
I’m so sick of holding everything in.
Why can’t I be normal?
Sliding down to the floor, I let go and cry.
My head hurts, my body hurts, my heart really fucking hurts.
I don’t remember a time when it didn’t hurt.
I’ve been here before. I trusted someone to love me and he destroyed every fragment of my soul. He tore me down with his words, cheated on me, and made me feel like it was all my fault.
That I wasn’t good enough.
That I wasn’t ladylike enough.
That I was depraved and degenerate, an embarrassment to my whole family.
I asked him once if he’d consider exploring in the bedroom with me and he lost his shit entirely. Told me there was nothing to explore because I had the sexuality of a damn dishcloth.
He hated my job because it involved writing about sex. He’s the reason my family doesn’t know what I do.
I almost quit because by that point he was controlling every aspect of my life in some way and threatened to leave me if I didn’t. I’d drafted the email to send to Jen and everything. The day I was going to send it, I walked into our apartment and found him balls deep in my cousin on our bed.
My laptop sat right beside them.
That was my rock bottom.
My sign that I’d let this man almost destroy everything I was when he gave nothing in return.
You know what he did when I calmly walked up to the bed and grabbed my laptop?
His eyes connected with mine and he told me that this was how a real lady behaves.
And if I let go of all my vile ideals, he’d give me another chance to prove myself to him.
To prove myself to a cheater.
Because a real lady sure as shit shacks up with another woman’s man, right? Her own flesh and blood’s man at that.
I promised myself then, I’d never do that again. I’d never let anyone close enough to hurt or judge me. I could have fun, but that’s where it would always end.
No strings, no relationships, no love.
I’d love myself and that would have to be enough.
So why am I letting Swayze get too close? This isn’t supposed to feel real. We aren’t supposed to be like this.
He’s my friend. A charmer. A player.
He’s supposed to be putting on an act.
But his face, his words, his actions… none of them seem like they’re for show.
I think he sees me.
I’m pretty sure he always has, but this is different.
We’re being different. Like we’re a team. Pete and I never had that connection in all the years we were together.
Hell, not only did I let Swayze fuck me bare, which I categorically don’t do, but we’ve even spooned naked the entire night.
I’ve only ever slept nude alone. The toad would constantly criticize me, point out a stretch mark here, or poke some flab there so I never trusted him enough to sleep that way.
I’m already burned, so why do I keep playing with fire?
If me and Swayze fuck this up, it won’t just hurt me. We’re talking total soul crushing annihilation.
I can’t do this. I don’t trust us not to mess it up. Especially when he could have anyone. He’d get bored of dealing with my prickly ass before long.
Why can’t we just rewind to the time before. When our biggest argument was who’s turn it was to put the trash cans out or what movie we should watch.
I miss his friendship. The easy, relaxed one we used to have.
He’s one of the most important men in my life and I’ve messed that up once already.
I don’t want to hurt him.
I don’t want to break us.
Every move we make leaves our friendship hanging in the balance. Trapped in this endless riptide of fucking or fighting since that first time we rolled the dice.
This isn’t what I want. It can’t be. I can’t give something I don’t have.
So why can’t I let go?