Fueled(book two)(147)

“Rylee,” Colton calls out in despair, his voice gravelly from sleep as I hear the door slam behind me. “Rylee!” he shouts at me as I all but run down the path, needing to escape from him. From her. From this. “Rylee it’s not what you―”

“Not what I think?” I yell over my shoulder at him in disbelief. “Because when your ex answers your door this early in the morning with your shirt on, what else am I supposed to think? ” His footsteps are heavy behind me. “Don’t touch me!” I yell as he grabs my arm and spins me around to face him. I yank it from his grip, my chest heaving, my teeth clenched. “Don’t f*cking touch me!”

Albeit temporarily, anger has replaced the hurt now. It is coursing through me like a wild inferno, emanating off of me in waves. I clench my fists and squeeze my eyes shut. I will not cry. I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply he has torn me apart. I will not show him that giving my heart away for the second time might be the biggest regret of my life.

When I look up, his eyes meet mine, and we stare at each other. My love for him still there. So deep. So raw.

So forsaken.

His eyes swim with emotion as he clenches and unclenches his jaw trying to find the right words. “Rylee,” he pleads, “let me explain. Please.” His voice breaks on the last word, and I close my eyes to block out the part of me that still wants to fix him, comfort him. And then the anger hits me again. At me for still caring for him. At him for breaking my heart. At her for…just being.

He runs a hand through his hair and then scrubs it over the stubble on his face. The sound of its rough scratch—the one that I usually find so sexy—does nothing but drive the proverbial knife deeper into my heart. He takes a step forward, and I mirror him taking a step back. “I swear, Rylee. It’s not what you think…”

I snort incredulously, knowing the consummate playboy will say anything—do anything―to talk his way out of this. The image of Tawny snuggled in nothing but his shirt flashes in my mind. I try to quiet the other ones that form. Of her hands on him. Of him tangled with her. I close my eyes and swallow purposefully, trying to wipe the images away. “It’s not what I think? If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck...” I imply with a shrug “...well then you know what they say.”

“Nothing hap―”

“Quack!” I shout at him. I know I’m being childish, but I don’t care. I’m pissed and hurting. He shakes his head at me, and I can see the desperation in his eyes. Tawny’s smug smirk fills my head, her previous taunts echo in my mind, and they fuel my fire.

Colton’s eyes search mine as he steps toward me again, and I retreat. I see the sting of rejection glance across his face. I need my distance to think clearly. I shake my head at him, disappointment swimming in my eyes and pain drowning my heart. “Of all people, Colton…why chose her? Why turn to her? Especially after what we shared the other night…after what you showed me.” The memory of the intimacy between us as we looked in the mirror at each other is almost too unbearable to envision, but it floods into my mind. Him behind me. His hands on my body. His eyes drinking me in. His lips telling me to look at myself, to realize why he chooses me. That I’m enough for him. A sob I can’t hold back escapes and is wrenching and comes from so deep within me that I wrap my arms around my torso to try and stifle its effects.

Colton reaches out to touch me but pauses when I glare at him, his face etched with pain, and his eyes frantic with uncertainty. He doesn’t know how to assuage the pain he’s caused. “Rylee, please,” he begs. “I can make this right again...”