Absorbed (Devoured, #1.5)(3)

Kylie jumps to her feet, clenching her hands by her side. “Don’t you give a shit about what happens to her?” She takes a shuddering breath. “Or, let me guess, she means about as much as one of your groupies to you, huh? Guess Sam did the right thing by scaring her off.”

I feel like she’s just punched the air right out of my lungs.

If I didn’t care about what happened to Sienna, she would be here with me right now, and there’d be no reason for Kylie to stop by and play my goddamn therapist. I wouldn’t care that my time with Sienna could be cut short at any moment. I wouldn’t care about what Sam would do to her, to me. I wouldn’t give a f*ck about anything but making myself happy for however long that feeling would last.

No, I care too much.

I flip my notebook closed and shove it aside because it’s impossible for me to write anything today.

“She moved.”

Kylie sits back down, gritting her teeth and shaking her head. “You’re lying.”

I press my lips together and meet my sister’s gaze full on. Our eyes challenge each other for several seconds before I finally shake my head. “I know where she used to live, but now I’ve got no clue.”

“Can’t you find out?”

“No,” I say. “Because I shouldn’t be a part of her life.”

The determination leaves my sister’s expression and is replaced by disbelief. “There’s so much that I want to say, but I doubt it’ll make a difference. And I’m sure that even if I did, you’d just throw my own shit back into my face. But I know you don’t want this. I know you must love—”

I cut her off before she goes too far. “You must not know me all that well.” It even sounds half-hearted, and Kylie gives me a grim smile.

“Fair enough.” I struggle to control my breathing as my sister gathers her belongings, stopping to grab a stack of mail off the desk next to the couch. She says nothing more as she moves about the room, but when she gets to the door she looks over her shoulder. “Don’t think for a second that I buy any of that hard-ass crap. If I told you that I was over McCrae, would you believe me?”

Despite the pain rolling through every part of my body, I allow the corners of my lips to lift into a sorry excuse for a smile. “No, I wouldn’t buy that shit for a second.”

Kylie grips the doorframe. “Then make things right. Screw Sam, screw the past, screw being afraid.”

When she starts to leave, I clear my throat. “Will you take your own advice?” I demand. She freezes, and I stare at her tensed back for a long pause before she glances back over her shoulder.

“Yeah, eventually I will.”

Fair enough I guess.

I don’t know if it’s Kylie’s words or need that drives me out of the house, but I find myself in my car less than ten minutes later. I locate Sienna’s new apartment quickly, but I don’t stop the Audi. I’m not ready for that yet, and to be honest, I don’t think she is either.

I drive right past, even though seeing where she lives just makes me realize how right my sister was. I’ve got to get her back. Realizing what I’ll need to do to even begin to accomplish that hits me square in my jaw. I grab my phone and dial the one number that shows up in my call history more than any other. The call immediately goes to voicemail. Which is typical when dealing with my ex-wife.

“We need to talk,” I growl. “None of your bullshit or crazy games, I just need to talk to you, Sam.” I know that she won’t call me back until tomorrow or maybe even next week, but I’ll be ready for her.

An hour later I step into my empty house, and I force all thoughts of Sam—and the twisted past we share—out of my mind. I go into my music room, and the only thing I can think of is Sienna. Her scent, her taste, the way she f*cking felt when I buried myself inside of her.

I pull out my notebook and guitar and begin to tell her everything.





Chapter Two


Lucas Wolfe





Over the next week, between the studio and a bar that I should start calling home, I rewrite the song for Sienna twice. Well, seven f*cking times to be exact, and its not anywhere close to being done. How can I sum up all of these crazy ass emotions—make up for all my f*ck-ups—in four minutes? At this point, I need to write Red a damn book to get out everything I want to say.

I decide to put the music aside for a couple days and focus on something else, mainly getting in touch with Sam. I need her out of my life to attempt to move forward with any type of normal relationship with anyone. This is the longest my ex has gone without calling me, without wanting something. Almost like a calm before the storm.

And then, she finally contacts me.

Her text comes just as I’m leaving the bank late in the afternoon—which is ironically fitting considering the way my relationship with her has turned into a financial nightmare for me over the last few years. I pull off into a shopping center and park at the end of the lot to read her message and respond.

4:43PM: You need me, baby?

Baby. I snort. Questions like this from Samantha are always loaded—always a test. I need for her to leave me alone. I need for her to stop holding shit I’ll never be able to change or fix over my head. But no, I don’t need her. Maybe I’m wrong for feeling that way now, but after everything that’s happened, I can’t force myself to feel any of the love I once felt towards her.