its way into my bones, but it’s dark outside by the time I crawl out of bed. I hate him. Hate the way I feel. Hate the thought of his name, but it doesn’t keep me from crying again as I climb in the shower and wash the scent of him from my skin.
Chapter 25
Flynn
When Wren walks into my office two days later and slaps a fucking tabloid on my desk, it isn’t the sight of me leaving that fucking hotel like a thief in the night that draws my attention. It isn’t the fact that the sun hadn’t even crested the horizon or the caption declaring Remington Blair: Did She Use Protection with Her Protector?
All of that is concerning, making my chest hurt and fists clench.
What keeps my head lowered, eyes focused on the rag in front of me is the second picture, the one of Remington walking out of the hotel with her head up, shoes from the previous night in her fist. I’ve seen that stubborn look on her face more than once. I’ve been a witness to the strength in her spine. She has the same stature when her parents walk past her without acknowledgment, when she’s feeling like she’s facing the world alone.
Only it wasn’t her parents or her shitty friends that put her in that position two mornings ago. I did that. I’m responsible for the stiffness in her shoulder, and the pink on her cheeks that’s holding back a dam of emotions.
“He wants to see you,” Wren says on a sigh.
I don’t bother looking up or moving. I knew this was coming. Deacon was on a long weekend with his wife, Anna, when the team returned on Sunday. It was only a matter of time before getting my ass chewed out by the boss.
“He said now,” Wren says, a look of concern on his face when we meet eyes. “Sorry, man.”
He walks away, shoulders slumped as if he’s just given me disastrous news.
I follow him out of the office, turning left when he goes right in the direction of his own space. I’m numb to all of it at this point, knowing nothing can make me feel worse. Walking away was nearly impossible. Even as explosive as we were together, Remington and I come from completely different worlds. I live in a two-bedroom condo. She lives in a mansion worth more than a small country. I work more than I sleep or play. She lounges by the pool and gets bi-weekly pedicures.
We just don’t mix. Passion is only a part of the equation, and even though we have that in spades, everything else will just get in the way of that.
“Fuck,” I grunt, covering my eyes when I open Deacon’s door without knocking. Seeing his wife straddling his lap while they make out like teenagers is the very last thing I wanted to see. I turn around. “I’ll come back.”
“Stay,” my boss snaps. I freeze but keep my back to them as they whisper goodbyes so sickly sweet, I may end up losing the coffee I’ve been living on for the last forty-eight hours.
Anna pats me on the back as she slips past me, her face a sad contradiction to the situation she just left with her husband. Oh, this is bad if she’s feeling sorry for me.
When Anna closes the door behind her, I face Deacon, falling into the chair across from him. I’d rather be sitting for the kick in the nuts.
“God, I love that woman,” he sighs, his eyes planted across the room where Anna just exited.
“Cool.” It’s the most I can manage.
He huffs a humorless laugh.
“So, you kissed her again?” His eyes dart to his copy of the same tabloid Wren threw on my desk.
Kissed her. Had my mouth all over that perfect body of hers, cock stuffed inside of her. Tinges of her blood on my dick. Left my cum inside of her.
The chance of getting her pregnant hits me in the chest, not having close to the effect I would’ve thought it could. The chance of her showing up, belly big with my child, makes my cock threaten to get hard. The possibility that our lives could be irrevocably tangled for eternity makes hope bloom in my chest. Our worlds may not mix now, but a baby would change all of that.
“Yeah, I kissed her again.”
“Wren tracked you to the hotel before the pictures hit the newsstands.”
“Yeah.”
“He tracked Ms. Blair to the same hotel.” I keep my