Adam!” my friend Tristan calls as he walks down the staircase.
“Hey, Tris,” I call out over the music, walking in his direction. We shake hands before I get right to the point of the reason I’m here. “Have you seen Bailey?”
Tristan shakes his head. “Haven’t seen her.”
My lips tighten. “Heard she’s here.”
“Everything all right?” he asks, brows furrowing.
I cringe. “We had an argument.”
Tristan grins knowingly and slaps me on the back. “You check upstairs. I’ll look out back for her.”
“Thanks, man,” I tell him, already starting up the stairs. Bailey has been my girlfriend since I first laid eyes on her four years ago. Aside from my baby sister, Anna, Bailey is the only woman I’ve truly cared for. Today we had the biggest fight we’ve ever had, and I won’t be able to relax until I sort this shit out with her.
Her phone is off, and I need to make sure she’s okay. Bailey can be a little reckless at times, and it’s not unusual for me to have to save her from some situation or another. She’s spirited and passionate, and I like that about her. She sure as hell was passionate about her anger during our fight today. I smile to myself as I remember her tossing her dark hair over her shoulder, full of sass, her brown eyes narrowed and filled with fire. I can’t even remember what we were fighting about now. I just know that she has me twisted around her little finger, and she doesn’t even know it. It’s always been that way when it comes to Bailey. She’s my first love, and even though we’re still young, I know it’s a real love. People can say what they like—it doesn’t bother me. I’m not the type to claim love for the first girl I see.
But Bailey isn’t just any girl.
More than eager to find her and make amends, I make my way to the second story of the house and look around for a glimpse of her. My anger sparks at the thought of her here, without me, surrounded by all these men. Our makeup sex is going to be hot tonight, that’s for damn sure.
“Have you seen Bailey?” I ask Christa. She’s a friend of Bailey’s, or at least I’ve seen them chatting now and again. I didn’t tell Bailey that the bitch has tried to hook up with me many times over the years, but I’ve shut her down every single time.
Christa nods, her eyes bright. “Yeah, I have. She’s in the third room.”
She points to the right. “I don’t think you’re going to want to go in there though,” she says. Her smile has a hint of cruelty behind it.
“Why the fuck not?” I growl, losing my temper. I storm to the door, a bad feeling settling in my gut. I turn the handle, but the door is locked, so I punch the bastard down.
The sight before me breaks my fucking heart.
My soul.
It destroys me.
For a second, I don’t understand what I’m seeing. Why would she do this? No, how could she do this?
I don’t look at her face. I can’t. All I see is red, and all I feel is broken.
I don’t know if she’s said anything this entire time—there’s just a loud noise buzzing in my ears. My feet carry me into the room, my rage acting on my behalf. I don’t feel anything, adrenaline pumping through me, my fists turned to iron.
I leave, my body shaking, my hands covered in blood.
I don’t even remember how the blood got there.
So this is what betrayal feels like.
* * *
It all makes sense now. I’m a fuckup. How did I not see it?
Over the years, all the women, the way I treated sex, was because of how my world changed when I thought Bailey cheated. I cut her out of my life, didn’t talk to her even when she tried to talk to me. I couldn’t even look at her—it hurt too much. Little did I know, it was me who should have been at her feet, begging for her to forgive me. I didn’t trust women, and although I love women, I was never in love with another.
I couldn’t give away something that belonged to a ghost.
Now she’s returned, and I find this out?
Fuck.
I squeeze my eyes shut and allow myself this moment of weakness.
This here.
I created this.
That woman there, I broke her.
If I could go back in time . . .
I should have taken her out of