eyelashes. Somehow the fact he had no clue what was going on made her even angrier. If they had a connection, why hadn’t he noticed Ellery beyond simple niceties? How come he couldn’t feel that it was with her he shared the zip, zing of something more? And not with the woman doing Clay five doors down?
“You know, she’s in her room. I just left there. Maybe you should go ask her,” Ellery said, turning on her heel and heading toward the front door. Maybe Evan would catch her mother in flagrante and understand exactly what he was dealing with—a woman who was more messed up than the one he had actually been feeling a “connection” with.
And maybe Ellery was as screwed up as her mother. After all, she’d cheated on her fiancé. Okay, it wasn’t cheating really. A kiss meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.
Except it did to you.
“Stop it,” Ellery whispered under her breath to her stupid inner voice.
“Wait, Ellery,” Evan called from behind her.
But she wasn’t stopping, because the handsome man who’d been Ellery’s little secret all along asking her whore mother out on a date was the last straw. The absolute, final insulting slap of hard reality that Ellery had been running from. Hell, she never even knew she was running from anything. She’d thought she was making lemonade from lemons, but the truth was she hadn’t been handed lemons. She’d been handed a steaming pile of crap to deal with, and a gal couldn’t make anything with steaming crap. All she could do was throw it at someone else.
She stormed down the hill toward the house where Josh probably sat with earbuds in, eyes on his computer. Or maybe he was jacking off in the bathroom to his little video. Or maybe he’d already left without so much as a See you later to the woman he was supposed to love. But didn’t.
Ellery now knew this.
Josh didn’t love her. Not like he was supposed to love her.
Angry tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she willed herself to stop being pathetic. Suck it up, buttercup. You know how to do this. Slap a smile on your face and pretend everything is A-okay. Stick to the plan.
As she approached the house, she glanced over to the trail she’d taken twice already. Her feet wanted to take her there, to that place where no one could find her. Except Gage.
But Gage was a crutch. She’d used him to feel better about herself.
Or maybe that wasn’t true.
If anything, she’d been her real self with him. She hadn’t tried to make Gage like her. Instead she’d let all her ugly out. And he’d kissed the hell out of her in spite of her warts.
She didn’t want to go back in that house to face Josh . . . or make merry with her friends. Her life felt too much for her at present. Decisions had to be made—should she confront Josh? She had to at some point, even if it meant admitting she’d snooped on his computer. Should she confront her mother? Eventually, but she couldn’t deal with the thought of what her mother and Clay had been doing. And how in all that was holy was she going to pay her rent and credit card bills? And finally, she still had to do something about Evan. God, her life was so effed up!
Just run away.
The voice inside her screamed the solution. Ellery could climb in her car and leave. Drive fast and go where no one could find her. Someone would pack up her abandoned leather bustier and warming lubricant. Someone would eat her stupid cake and do the Jell-O shots. Someone would pick up the pieces of her life and put them somewhere for safekeeping.
“Hey, you,” Madison said from the rocking chair.
Ellery squeaked and clutched her chest. “Damn it, you scared me.”
“I know. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Madison held up a coffee mug. “I got the coffeepot working. Josh had pressed all the wrong buttons.”
“Figures. I sort of forgot to bring him coffee anyway,” Ellery said, walking to the rocking chair next to her friend.
“I put on the kettle for you and found a tea bag in my overnight bag from last time. Your mom left us everything but tea.”
“She’s been distracted, I guess.” Doing Clay and flirting with Evan.
“What’s wrong, Elle? I thought after last night, you’d be . . . well, happier. I saw the bustier and stockings. Did