“Mmm-hmm,” is all I can manage as tears clog in my throat.

Colton leans forward and I close my eyes momentarily as he brushes a reverent kiss on my nose. “Thank you for last night. For this morning. For this.” I just nod my head, not trusting myself to speak as he runs his hand down the length of my arm and squeezes my hand. He pulls back a fraction, his eyes locking on mine. “I’ll call you, okay?”

I just nod my head again at him. He’ll call me? When? In a couple of days? A couple of weeks? Never? He leans forward and grazes my cheek with a kiss. “Bye, Ry.”

“Bye,” I say, barely a whisper of sound. He squeezes my hand one more time before turning his back and walking down the walkway. Pride over the small step he took today tinged with a flash of fear fills me as I watch him climb in the Range Rover, pull out of the driveway, and until he turns the corner from my sight.

I shake my head and sigh. Taylor Swift’s definitely right. Loving Colton is like driving a Maserati down a dead end street. And with what he just said to me, I feel like I just slammed into it head first.



Haddie and I have been like ships passing in the night the past couple of days, but she is awfully curious as to my cryptic notes about my night with Colton. I’m still confused as hell at what happened between leaving Colton’s house and arriving at my doorstep. The two differing vibes have left me confused and moody and desperate to see him again, see if what I thought was between us was real or if I’d imagined it. At the same time, I’m angry and hurt and my heart aches at what I want so badly to be but am afraid never will. I have over-thought and over-analyzed every second of our drive home, and the only conclusion is that our connection unnerves him. That my willingness to return when all others would have run scares him. And even with that knowledge, the past few days have been unsettling. I’ve shed a few tears from my doubts and Matchbox Twenty has been on repeat on my iPod. It has also helped that I have a job where I have to work twenty-four hour shifts to occupy my time.

I take a sip of my Diet Coke, singing along to Stupid Boy, and finish adding ingredients to the salad when I hear the front door slam. I can’t fight the smile that spreads on my lips when I realize just how much I’ve missed Haddie these past few days. She has been so busy working on projects for a new client that PRX is trying to land she’s basically been sleeping at the office.

“My goodness, I’ve missed you, silly girl!” she announces as she comes into the kitchen and wraps her arms around me in soul-warming hug.

“I know.” I hand her a glass of wine. “Dinner’s almost ready. Go get changed and get your butt back here so we can catch up.”

“And you better not hold back on me,” she warns with one of her looks before leaving the kitchen.

Our dinner has been eaten, and I think we are on our second or third bottle of wine. The fact that I’ve lost track tells me it’s been enough for me to relax and tell Haddie everything. Her no-holds-barred responses to my replay of events have left me gasping for breath from laughing so hard.

As Should I Stay plays softly on the speakers around us, Haddie leans back against the chair behind her and stretches her legs out on the floor. Her perfectly manicured toes are a bright pink. “So, have you talked to him since then?”

“No. He’s texted me a couple of times, but I’ve only given him one word responses.” I shrug, not having any more clarity after relaying everything to her. “I think he might have a clue I’m hurt about something but he hasn’t asked.”

Haddie snorts loudly. “C’mon, Ry, he’s a guy! Which means first of all he has no clue and, secondly, he’s not going to ask even if he does think you’re pissed.”

“True,” I concede, giggling. The aura of sadness that’s been around me for the past few days continues to dissipate with my laughter.

“But that’s no excuse for him being a dick,” she says loudly, raising her glass up.

“I wouldn’t exactly call him a dick,” I argue, silently chastising myself for defending the one person that is responsible for my current confused and miserable state. Haddie just arches an eyebrow at me, a smarmy smirk on her face. “I mean, I am the one who told him to take a pit stop if he needed to deal with things instead of push me away. I just don’t understand how he’s kissing me one minute and then the next minute asking for one.”

“Let me think about it a minute,” she says, a look of amused concentration on her face. “My head’s a little fuzzy from all this wine.”

I giggle at her and the determined look on her face as she tries to work through everything. “Okay, okay, I got it,” she shouts victoriously. “I think that…hmmm…I think that you freaked him the fuck out, Rylee!”

I throw my head back laughing hysterically at her. A drunk Haddie means a fouled mouth Haddie. “That’s very astute, Had!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” She throws her hands up and luckily her wine doesn’t slosh over the side. “I mean from what you’ve told me, you opened up to him, you talked about stuff, he fucked you seven ways from Sunday—”