Crushed (Torn #7)(49)

Knowing what tomorrow would bring, I vowed to consume him as much as I could until I was out of breath, passed out from too much consumption of memories, of his lovemaking, of his kisses.

“Make love to me…” I whispered, begging against his lips. “Touch me as if you’re in love with me, please … Just for tonight, I need you to pretend you do.” It was the lowest I had ever been in my life, yet I didn’t feel a drop of embarrassment from the request. If choosing to let go of him and my love for him was death, then I would rather have it with the sweetest memories of him, of tonight, to keep me warm on the nights that would test me the most. The nights where I would cry myself to sleep thinking of him as I willed myself to believe I was doing the right thing, that moving on was the best thing I could ever do for myself.

My wish was granted with him saying my name in a way that was loaded with emotion, throaty with words left unsaid, yet I knew he was going to give me everything I asked of him tonight—even borrowing his heart.

It brought me to tears due to immense sadness and joy.

This was our last night, our last goodbye.

A

Trista was arriving sometime in the afternoon, so I decided it was best to leave sometime before noon because I had to do a week’s worth of laundry and other errands, like filling the fridge with groceries.

Brody was fast asleep when I decided to get up and get ready. Since I had packed most of my belongings the night prior, I had little else to do but leave.

For a moment, I contemplated if I was doing the right thing or if I should even wake him up to say goodbye, but then I stopped myself. It seemed like a silly notion, knowing I lived only five minutes from him. Instead, I opted in giving him a slight kiss on the back of his neck, enough to content my conscience without having to wake him. I supposed it was easier with him asleep. After all, had he been awake, I would have probably resorted to tears, and quite frankly, I didn’t want to shed any more of those suckers. I’d had enough of those from the past week to last me a lifetime.

Upon arriving home, I didn’t have much time to dwell on my feelings, and for that small blessing, I was grateful.

Since it was her first day back and I had no doubt Taylor was going to come and sleepover, I decided to order in for dinner.

The food barely arrived before Trista and Taylor came through the door. However, the usual sunny, annoying personality that I was so accustomed to seeing was lost on Trista’s rather sullen face.

“Welcome home?” I frowned as I strolled towards her before giving her a tight hug. Something was up with her, and I wondered what it was.

“Hey, boo. I know I look like crap, and I seriously feel it, too. Would you two mind if I leave you guys for a quick shower? I feel icky.”

She did looked way past exhausted. The jet lag was catching up to her.

“Yeah, go on ahead. I ordered Chinese for dinner.”

“Do you need me to come up with you?” Taylor asked her, but she instantly declined, looking as if it pained her to even smile at him.

Okay. She was acting weird.

Both Taylor and I watched her go. Once she was out of sight, we both quietly went into the kitchen where he then proceeded to sit behind the counter while I took the takeout boxes out of the bag.

“Did you two fight?” Raising my brow at him, I noted his casual shrug.

“No, not that I’m aware of.” Though he stated that, it was rather obvious he wasn’t confident in his answer and just as confused as I was by Trista’s odd behavior. It was so unlike her.

I would have probably known what was going on with her had I not been busy with Brody and his rather remarkable traits and anatomy, and I was now regretting my decision to stay with him. I mean, how many missed calls and text messages had I ignored because I was too “busy” getting it on?

After I had texted her that I had moved into Carter’s home, I had practically stopped communicating with her, with Emma, too.

This odd behavior of mine wasn’t uncommon. My mercurial personality was one of the hated ones which they liked to point out, but I couldn’t help it; I simply had days where I couldn’t deal with anyone. My emotional capacity couldn’t handle an emotional overload, so it was my method of dealing with things without going bonkers. If the heat got too much after that… Well, I had ways to sort that out, which was one of the main reasons I had always gotten in trouble in the past with drugs. Of course, after this time with Rob, I sure as hell wouldn’t be touching any illegal narcotics, guaranteed.

Since we didn’t know what was going on with her, I knew I had to deviate from Trista to a different subject, something neutral.

“How’s it going, Tay-Tay?” I asked him as I sat next to him, my eyes openly admiring his longer hair. I didn’t know why there was always something compelling about men with confidence and sexy, long, rugged hair. I didn’t want to say it out loud, but it was such a vast contrast to Trista’s rotten Harry who was a poor excuse for a human being. Good riddance.

Taylor, just like Bass Cole his best bud, was pretty laid back, though they always gave off that endearing yet hot, sexy swag. I wasn’t sure if it was due to them being schooled in Europe, but it was very interesting indeed.

“Not much on my end, really, just school and whatnot. Quite frankly, it’s nice to have Trista back stateside. As crazy as she is, she’s the reason I’m sane,” he replied.