Page 77 of Bad Boy Crush

As he turned to leave, the power flickered. “Goodbye, Lourdes.”

“Wait, Ant.” She chased him through the hallway, lit in flashes by lightning strikes over the lake “Don’t go.”

He shook off her hold. “You want to be alone, honey, you got it. You can’t ask me to stay when you have offered me nothing.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No shit.” He was exhausted. He was heartbroken. He had no idea where to go from here, but he sure as hell couldn’t be around her right now.

“We never talked about a future together. I thought we were just…” She bit her lip, not finishing her thought.

“We were just what? Just fucking? Just friends?”

“Both.” Her chin quivered.

And there it was. He was good enough to pal around with and good enough in the sack but when it came to commitment, he didn’t measure up. At her parents’ house, she’d told him he was the one she wanted, but those had ended up being just words after all. He wasn’t going to be the man she chose. He’d long suspected he wasn’t good enough for her. She’d made him believe that wasn’t true, and he had believed her. That was on him.

He spun the doorknob, and she tried again.

“Please. Don’t leave.”

Pissed, and too hurt to be fair, he told her, “Just friends who fuck don’t stay and cuddle you through a thunderstorm, sweetheart.”

“It’s crazy to go out in this!”

“Already crazy,” he called over his shoulder, refusing to look back.

Once he was in the truck, water washing over the windshield, he realized how right she was. He was stone-cold crazy for believing she could love him the way he loved her. To him, she was everything. To her, he was disposable. A placeholder. Someone who gave her what she needed in the moment.

Still, a part of him hated himself for leaving during the storm. Hated himself for making her cry. Not far into his drive home, he lost the battle within himself. Hot, angry tears flowed down his cheeks.

twenty-two

May, her arm linked with Lou’s, followed Lisa to a table outside on the covered patio at Salty Dog. She’d told her friends nine times, maybe more, that she didn’t want to go out, but here she was. Out.

The rescue mission had started with a group text. May asked how the Hamptons vacay went, and Lou shared that it hadn’t ended well. In retrospect, she should have lied and said everything was fine. Elli, who was visiting her parents in Chicago, had promised to check in on Lou the moment she returned home.

May and Lisa had arrived at Lou’s house on a mission. Lisa had rifled through the closet in search of a “going-out outfit” and May had applied Lou’s makeup. Basically, Lou hadn’t been given a choice.

On the drive over, Lisa had announced they were going to Salty, but they would sit outside in case Xavier was behind the bar. She’d stated that the last thing they needed was a man listening in who could potentially relay what was said to Anthony.

“Margaritas will fix it,” Lisa had promised.

Lou was not in the partying mood, and she doubted even the best margarita in town could change that anytime soon.

“It was either margaritas or tequila shots. We might order those next.” Lisa lifted her own margarita glass.

“I don’t think tequila will help.” Lou cupped the stemmed glass anyway and took a drink. It was tart, salty, and delicious but did little to improve her mood. Maybe she’d feel better after drinking three of them.

“We are here for you,” May said. “Spill. What happened in the Hamptons? How did Ant mess everything up?”

Lou started to explain, but her eyes heated as her throat grew tight before she uttered a single syllable. The only sound she managed was a squeak before she buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

“Oh, shit.” Lisa wrapped an arm around her as May rushed to do the same. Her friends had chosen a corner of the patio facing the unused field behind the bar. Privacy, at least for the moment, was theirs.

Over the days since Ant had walked out of her house, she’d cried and cried. Her throat ached, her head was muzzy. She’d been a robot this week. Work, check. Feed herself, check. Shower, check. It was as if a storm cloud of sadness had settled over her permanently.

She’d watched him pull out of her driveway. Wind had shaken the trees and had blown the rain in buckets against her windows. She’d been scared—terrified, in fact—but not of the storm. Of losing him. For good, this time.