I knew they’d have good bounce. They were probably fake, but I didn’t give a shit. They’d be nice to look at if she rode me.
“Look, I don’t know if I can go another round right now,” I told her, thinking about that image. “But find me in a couple of hours. Then I can make some magic happen.”
She giggled. “Sounds good.” She leaned close and whispered, her hand running down my chest. “You can just come home with me. You can have me all night and any way you want. How about that?”
That sounded...empty. Why would she want that? But I flashed her a grin. “Sounds like a plan.”
Her hand dropped to my dick, and she pressed against it through my jeans. It was quick, but enough to give me a good preview of the night to come. As she turned to leave, her breasts grazed my arm, and I was right. Firm. They were possibly my new favorite thing after asscheeks. Once she headed back inside, I could feel Nate’s gaze on me, and I ignored him.
He knew I was pissed, but he didn’t know about what, and he didn’t know how deep this burning pain went. It went all the way to the core. That was how far Taylor had gotten in.
“Like I said…” Nate stood up. “That’s if you’re going home with me tonight.” He brushed past me, tossing his beer bottle into the trash and heading back inside the house.
I glanced around. Still feeling Taylor—smelling her vanilla scent and hearing the last thing she’d laughed about—I gripped the glass in my hand. I needed shots, and a lot of them.
TAYLOR
After Logan left, I sat up there on that roller coaster for another hour. I stayed until I could finally feel the cold. Before that, I felt nothing. I welcomed something finally slipping inside of me, something other than emptiness.
I climbed down, and I was able to squeeze back through a hole I found in the fence. I sat on the curb, wrapped my arms around my knees, and bent my forehead to rest on my legs. If I could have closed in on myself, I would have. But that position warded off some of the night’s chill, so I sat back up. I wanted to feel that. I sat and shivered and waited for the cab I’d called.
I wouldn’t be the type of girl who clung to a guy when I was hurting. I wouldn’t be that person. Nothing good could come of it. I was broken inside, and even though Logan’s Fuck you still echoed in my head, I knew this had been the right thing to do.
He’d see that, too. Eventually.
I was still telling myself that when the cab arrived, its lights sweeping over me. And I was still reminding myself when it pulled up at my house. Stepping inside, I dropped my purse by the door and my keys on the counter. I’d been at Logan’s, and I’d gotten used to how alive his home was. It was full of people, of life, of love. I perused the darkened entrance hall, then moved to stare at the living room.
Empty.
Dull.
Nothing.
That was what I felt as I stood inside my home.
“Taylor?”
My dad came from the kitchen wearing his plaid robe over pajama pants and a white T-shirt—what he always used to wear at night. He also wore the slippers he always used to wear around the house.
I pointed at them and said hoarsely, “Those stupid things. You’re wearing them again.”
He looked down and lifted a leg in the air. He laughed. “Oh, yeah. I didn’t even think. They were by the nightstand, so I just slipped ’em on. Habit.”
I’d given them to him as a Christmas present three years ago. The slipper was a mallard duck, but the green coloring had faded. One had a rip that my mom had tried to stitch up a few months before she died.
“I made that rip,” I said through tears. “Mom was carrying them, and one snagged on a nail from the stupid DIY project I was trying to do.” I’d been rushing past, in a hurry to meet Eric. The words would hardly come now. “I told her to toss ’em, that I’d buy you a new pair, but she wouldn’t listen. She said you loved them. That they were your ‘habit’ slippers. I didn’t know what she meant, but I didn’t care. Eric was waiting for me.”