Page 79 of Her Filthy Grump
“No.” She shakes her head and steps back. “People in relationships don’t keep secrets. You’re right. We’re too different.”
“Let me explain.” I reach out, but she’s gone before I can get another word out. The door shuts with a snap, leaving me standing alone on the front porch. “I’m staying.” Sadly, no one can hear my confession.
What does it matter? She’s right. I’m not the kind of guy a woman wants to spend the rest of her life with. I’m no different than my dad–he couldn’t keep a woman either. We’re destined to be alone.
The sound of my boots clanking across the wooden porch is the only noise that makes it to my ears. It’s like I’ve stepped into an alternate universe where nothing else exists. There’s no breeze. No birds singing. No dogs barking. Everything’s muted as a hush falls over my shoulders and sucks me into the abyss.
As I snatch open the door, the hinges squeaking signals that the world continues to exist. I don’t. I’m unraveling, and nothing will be able to hold the threads and put me back together.
A door crashes against the outside wall of a nearby house, and a child emerges laughing as she chases a dog down the steps. “Stop it, Dixie.” The dog yelps and dances at her feet.
Then, the older couple I met during the fire at their house step outside and toddle over to the porch swing. Like a force of nature, the world started spinning again, and my throat closes.
Fuck.The noise and motion are too much. I need the oblivion from a few seconds ago. That way, I can pretend everything’s an illusion. I’m fake. My time with Layla was a dream. None of it existed.
I slam the door shut and welcome the utter silence. The lights in Layla’s living room blink off, and a low groan escapes my mouth.Damn it.I slam my hand against the steering wheel, causing pain to shoot up my forearm and into my shoulder. This is my destiny. To be alone and in pain.
Desperation claws at me. I need a bottle of whiskey. There’s only one thing that provides the escape I’m seeking. Fuck. I’ve got to go back to work and finish my shift. Then–whiskey.
Chapter Fifty-One
Layla
The dust bunny on my floor mocks me with its beady eyes. Fine. It doesn’t have eyes. I squint and stare. Are those eyes? I cringe and roll over onto my back. Who cares?
Slowly, I drift off. The sweet release of sleep cradles me in its arms, and I let everything go. There’s no more Kameron. There never was. Our time together was a fantasy. Leave it to me to fall for the bad boy grump with the brooding eyes and think I’m going to change him.
How many times did my mom tell me I couldn’t rescue everything? Stray cats. A random dog. Makeshift crates for abandoned bunnies. I’ve done it all. But men? You can’t fix them. They must want to change. And apparently, Kameron’s aversion to long-term relationships is here to stay.
Sex? Sure. A few dates? Why not. Love? Let’s blurt that out. Commitment? Fuck no.
Two Days Later
My eyes pop open, and I stare at the ceiling. I can’t stop dreaming about him. Thankfully, this one was not the one where he holds me in his arms and kisses away all my heartbreak, because that one kicks me in the gut every time.
Ring. Ring. What the fuck?I glare at my cellphone.I don’t want to talk to anyone.It’s been two days, and I can barely get out of bed. By now, Kameron must be back in Kansas City, where he belongs.
I double over in pain. Why does it hurt so much?
Bang. Bang.Someone knocks on my front door. Why can’t I die in peace?
If they want to see me, they can come back later. Much later. I pull the pillow over my face and block all the light and sounds.
Seconds later, my bedroom door crashes open, and the wood rattles against the wall. “What the fuck?” I throw the pillow to the side of the bed and jerk upright.Harbor.“Bitch.” I flop back against the bed. “Go away.”
“Are you going to stay here forever?”
“Yes. Where else would I go?” I called Harbor the second Kameron left. Fine. I lay propped up against the front door for an hour hoping he’d come back and tell me I was wrong. Explain what happened. But he never came back. He’s probably back to his old life and living large.
“To the shower.” She sniffs loudly. “What’s that smell?”
“Despair.”
“No, I’m serious. Something stinks in here.” She randomly picks up items off the floor and tosses them to the side.
“It’s sour milk.”
“Sour milk?”