Page 81 of Trusting You

My fingers drifted to the spot on my neck that he kissed while pulling the fabric off me.

But that’s where it ended. We didn’t go any further. I asked him to stop, and he did. We got into bed together, and when I asked him to put his arms around me, he did. And those lips came down on my neck again—gentle, sweet—before I drifted off.

It was a perfect, beautiful moment, prefaced only by an extreme ecstasy that makes me shiver—just thinking about his tongue—all of which I ruined in one single, named scream.

Lily.

I still didn’t trust him with Lily. Never mind me.

My reflection catches my eye, and I see the tired bruises in the hollows, the ghostly pallor coating my face. Since Paige died, I’ve been paler than usual, lighter in weight, emptier in a lot more places. But this is a new low of exhaustion, and I press my fingers to my cheeks and stretch the skin there, just to be sure.

Yep, a skull looks back.

Paige warned me that all the stress would catch up to me if I wasn’t careful. She said it while prone in a hospital bed, our second visit in a month, another round of chemo dripping through her veins, and instead of listening to her, I made it my fault. Turned it into guilt over Paige worrying about me when she had so much to fear already.

My best friend being gone forever has me seeing our past a lot more clearly. Like how she could read every transmission of guilt across my face and what she must have felt because of it. About anyone attempting to dismiss their problems in front of Paige because hers were so much worse. How incomplete that must have made her feel because no one was trying to relate to her anymore.

No, forget that—no one was confiding in her anymore. She was sick. Terminal. Suffering enough. So, other problems morphed into determination to fake it better so Paige could focus on what was more important. Her health. Her survival. Her fight to keep fighting, since anything less would mean she wasn’t trying to beat cancer hard enough.

And somehow, that determination made me believe I should be less of a friend to her.

Oh…the guilt. It was in treble now.

Paige.

Locke.

Lily.

What the fuck am I doing?

Getting sexually involved with Lily’s father after specifically being warned off by his sister, and my promising to stay away. Not simply for Astor, but for me. My sanity. My everything.

I whimper at the mirror. Here I am, standing in his T-shirt after a night of fooling around, and instead of having a happy time eating breakfast with him and Lily at the kitchen countertop, I’m hungover and brimming with mistakes—most of which were caused by my stupid mouth.

The mouth Locke claimed for himself last night, sucked and bit and tongued into submission. I could probably still taste him if I tried.

“Ugh!” I curl my lip in disgust at myself. Even now, I can’t get my thoughts in line with logic. Astor said last night that Locke and his friends thought mostly with their dicks. I wonder what the equivalent for girls is.

Grimacing, I think I know the answer and turn away.

To give myself something else to do other than wallow in my own limited self-worth, I rummage around the bed for my purse, which I’m sure I carried in here at some point, since it has my phone and, more importantly, blush. I must give myself more color before approaching Locke and pleading with him to like me again. Appealing to him as a husk of myself didn’t seem like the right approach.

I spot the tattered strap of my small leather clutch peeking out from under the bed and bend down to get it. When I drag it out, it snags on something that rattles, and as the item rolls into my vision, my heart doesn’t plummet.

It stops.

I pick up the orange cylinder, the pills clicking against each other inside. Even though I’m pretty sure what the prescription will say, I read it anyway.

Lachlan R. Hayes

HYDROCODONE / ACETAMINOPHEN, 7.5-750 MG

Take one tablet by mouth

Every 6 hours as needed for pain

I fall onto my haunches.Every part of my body goes slack, except for the hand holding the bottle. It’s stiff, tight, and if it weren’t for the plastic, I’d shatter it right here and now.