or we’re going to end up naked on this table in front of everyone. “Becca’s going to kick his ass.”
He chuckles. “Does she know we’re trying?”
“Nope. That’s why you’re still alive.”
Our waitress approaches our table, steaming plates in hand. I give her a murderous look now that our food’s here and she can’t spit in it. Working in the waitressing business has taught me as much. It also taught me you don’t ogle other girls’ boyfriend right in front of them.
But he’s not your boyfriend, my common sense kindly reminds me.
I only get a month.
Can the waitress tell? Does she think I’m his pathetic friend who only gets a month? I consider grabbing her and forcing Kent to explain that we’re trying, we’re trying damn it, but I keep my butt in my seat where it belongs. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone.
When she leaves I grab my fork and shove a bite of pancake into my mouth to keep it busy.
“Should I be worried?” he asks, licking syrup from his fork.
“Yes. Becca isn’t like me. She knows who you are, by the way.”
“Great. I wonder what she’s witnessed.” He tries to narrow it down, but of course he can’t. “How does she know me?”
“I don’t know, but she knows you well.”
“Did we…?” He looks sick.
“No,” I assure him.
“Maybe I know someone she does. Name a couple of her friends.”
“Mandy? She’s known her since high school.” He shakes his head. “Kenneth? He’s been her friend for a long time also.” Another shake. “Well there’s also Gwen. They’ve been girlfriends for a long time.”
His face pales. “Gwen Henderson?”
“Yeah…”
“Shit,” he mutters. “No wonder she doesn’t like me.”
“What happened with Gwen?”
“Eat your food.” He picks up his fork and takes a bite.
I feel sick. “Tell me.”
“You don’t want to know. Trust me. I’m trying not to be that man anymore, remember?”
It must be low down if he doesn’t want to tell me. He’s always so honest.
“You have to remember I was hurting bad then. Willow hadn’t been gone long and I wanted to punish every woman I could get my hands on.”
“Are you punishing me? Because it sure feels that way.”
He cringes. “You’re the last person I want to punish. Don’t say stuff like that to me. I’ve never wanted to be better more than I do when I’m with you. I’ve been torturing myself about it.”
“Tell me, or Becca will.”
“Can we do it in the car?”
“Sure.” My tone is dripping acid all over my pancakes. “Eat, Kent.”
For the rest of our breakfast we eat in tension-filled silence. It taints every bite, until my meal is tasteless and unwanted. What did Kent do now? How much more of this will I have to endure? Although I knew exactly who I was involving myself with long before I got involved. I have no one to blame but myself. There are signs, and then there’s walking in on a man having sex twice. Kent has never lied about who he is. I saw him the moment he opened his door.
When we get in the car, I face him. “Talk.”
“Things got out of hand, that’s it.”
I gawk at him. “Kent.”
“Fine. You want to know what happened. I beat her ass.” He pulls over and puts the car in park and then turns to me with a defeated expression. “You want me to walk home?”
I’m confused. “You…hit her?”
“I slapped her, pulled her hair, and left my mark. But she wanted it. She begged me for it. That kinky shit was her idea. Not mine. Then I slap her too hard and all of a sudden she wants to stop and it’s my fault and she’s screaming at me to go.”
My stomach sinks. It’s on the car floor and Kent’s kicking at it with his boots. “You slapped her?”
“She asked me to,” he insists.
“But you did it?” I can’t even look at him.
“Yes. I did it. And she was sucking my dick while I was doing it. Remember that part.”
I squeeze my eyes shut in agony. “Don’t move,” I warn him. I find my phone from my purse and call Becca. “I need to know one thing.”
“What?” she snaps, still pissed.
“Kent and Gwen.”
She gasps quietly. “Did he tell you?”
I start to sway. “So it did happen?”
“It happened. The bastard roughed her up.”
“But they were having sex.”
“So!” she growls. “So what if she wanted it a little rough? It doesn’t give him the right to slap her.”