High-Sided (Armed & Dangerous #3)(71)

I haven’t had a steady girlfriend since I entered the industry and a one night stand isn’t about to change that. These girls don’t mean anything and never will. I could change. I could settle down and marry.

Have a kid or two. But why?My manager, Sam, would love it, especially if it was her. She’s my only repeat lay. The first time was an error in judgment, a lonely night on the road mistake. Now she wants more. I don’t.

When she told me she was pregnant I wanted to jump off a cliff. I didn’t want kids, at least not with her. When I think about having a wife, she’s tall and brunette. She’s toned from years of cheerleading and her daily five-mile run. She’s not a power hungry executive in the music industry who spoke of hiring nannies before a doctor could confirm her pregnancy.

She suggested marriage; I freaked and flew to Australia to learn to surf.

She miscarried two months in. I made a vow that we’d keep things professional from that point on and that is when I started my one night stand routine. Despite everything, she still loves me, and is waiting for me to change my mind.

“You know,” the barfly from last night starts to say in between shuffling and her huffed breathing as she puts on her clothes. “I heard you were a dick, but I didn’t believe it. I thought we had something special.”

I laugh and shake my head. I’ve heard it all, each one thinks we have something special because of the most amazing night they’ve ever had.

“I didn’t pick you for your brains.” I walk into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it for good measure.

Leaning against the door I bang my head against the solid wood. Each time I tell myself I’m going to stop, and I think I have until something makes me want to forget. My hands rake over my face in pure frustration.

I’m not looking forward to going home.

The reason for returning is staring at me from my bathroom counter. The page-long article of the guy I used to call my best friend. Picking up the paper, I read over the words that I have memorized.

Mason Powell, father of two, was killed tragically when the car he was driving was rear-ended by an eighteen wheeler.

Dead.

Gone.

And I wasn’t there.

I left like a coward when I didn’t say goodbye.

I changed my cell phone number because she wouldn’t stop calling. I had to make a clean break and Mason was part of that. She and Katelyn were best friends and he’d tell her where I was and what I was doing. It was better this way.

I was only meant to be gone a year. I told myself I’d return home after twelve months, make everything right and show her that I wasn’t the same person she fell in love with. She’d see that and thank me, move on and marry a yuppie businessman, one who wakes up every day and puts on a crisp dress shirt and pleated slacks that she’d iron in their Leave it to Beaver household.

I squeeze the paper in my hands and think about everything I’ve missed. I don’t regret it, I can’t. I did this for me and did it the only way I knew how. I just didn’t think I’d care so much about missing everything.

I missed the day he asked Katelyn to marry him. Something I knew he wanted to do since we were sixteen.

I missed his wedding and the birth of his twins. He was a father and a husband. He had three people who depended on him and now he’s gone. He’ll never see his children grow up and do the things that we did when we were younger. All the things we said our kids would do together. I missed this because I had something to prove to myself. I gave up on their dream and the life we had all planned out.

And now I’m heading home to face the music.