Sinful Longing (Sinful Nights, #3)(50)

And himself.

Maybe he shouldn’t have said those things. Maybe he should have been smarter, kinder, softer.

But at the very least he’d been honest.

That had to count for something, didn’t it?

The machine had no answers. As it simulated a river, the rowing machine simply jerked and pulled, and he fought back, wishing he were on the water for real, far away from land and able to totally disconnect.

But it was eleven o’clock at night, and this was the only way to fight the demons that whispered temptation in his ear. He was mad, he was frustrated, he was ashamed, and beneath it all, he was strangely happy, too.

For Marcus. For the chance the kid took and the chance Colin had to get to know him in a new way. For Shan and Michael as well. He and Ryan had taken Marcus to meet them, and it had gone well. But dammit. Today should have been something positive and good. Something that could represent a fresh start.

But the day turned sour when he’d overreacted. He’d been a total * to Elle. Like Kayla when he broke up with her. He cringed at how shitty he’d felt about himself when he saw her messages, and he hated thinking that Elle might feel that way now.

He wished he could erase those messages. Wished he could do the day over again. Pick up the phone. Call her. Or better yet, just show up at the rink and talk to her. Instead, he’d given her a taste of her own medicine.

But with far too much dosage.

Now, all he wanted was to spend the night with his onetime loves.

Patrón and pills.

Instead, he rowed. He paddled. He gripped. The sound of the gears slammed in his ears over and over. Soon, soon, it would drown out his horrible longing. It had to.

Oh God, please, it has to.

*

Her mother dangled the white pill in front of her, waving it back and forth like it was a dinosaur vitamin for a three-year-old. “Just take one.”

Elle batted it away.

“It’ll taste so good,” her mom said, in a singsong voice.

She shook her head. She didn’t want to make a bigger deal of her crash. “I don’t want it.”

Her mom shot her a glare as Elle settled into the couch. “You have a dislocated thumb, and you’re in so much pain your sister said you were squealing. Now stop being such a pigheaded lady, miss.”

“I was not squealing,” Elle insisted. “And please. It’s a dislocated thumb. Thumb,” she said, emphasizing the extreme mildness of her injury. The urgent care doctor had diagnosed her with a simple dislocation. Then he’d clasped Elle’s hand in both of his and manipulated the thumb back in place.

Sounded easy. Hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.

Fine. Maybe she had squealed then. Possibly she’d shed the tears she hadn’t let slide down her cheeks at the rink. Perhaps they’d even served double duty—tears of pain and tears of sadness from Colin’s barrage of notes.

She’d deserved them.

Still, they’d hurt.

The doctor had placed a metal splint on her thumb and told her she’d be fine in a day or so. “These type of injuries hurt like the Dickens when they happen and for the next twenty-four hours, but then it’s pretty much over and done. But just in case, I want you to have some of these,” he’d said as he wrote out a prescription for pain meds.

Camille had filled them at the pharmacy as she took Elle and Alex home, and her mom had arrived as soon as her shift had ended. Now Elle reached for the light blanket on the back of the couch and pulled it over her legs, then shifted to her side and yelped.

“What is it?” her mom asked, her eyes wide, worry written in them.

“My hip. It’s not dislocated, though. It just hurts since I landed on it, too.” She rubbed the spot where she’d fallen. Using her right hand. Which made her thumb throb. That pain radiated through her hand, up her forearm, and straight to her damn shoulder. She winced. “Guess I shouldn’t use this stupid thumb to rub my stupid hip.”

“Sweetie, just take one. You’ll feel better.”

“I don’t want to,” she said. She needed to stay strong. She couldn’t let a simple dislocation rattle her.

“Mom.” She turned her focus to the hallway door. Alex had popped out of his bedroom. “Take the pill. You’ll feel better. You were crying all evening.”

“I was not,” she said with a huff.

Her mom heaved a sigh then shrugged and addressed her next words to Alex. “Nothing we can do about this stubborn lady.”

“People. You act like I fell off a cliff. This is nothing. I’ll be back in business tomorrow.”

“But you’re out of roller derby the rest of the season,” Alex said, pointing out those doctor’s orders, too. No contact sports for two weeks. Nothing that could lead to re-injury. The season was over in fourteen days.

“Ugh. Thanks for reminding me. Maybe I should take one now. To numb the pain of missing my games,” she said, cracking a small smile.

“Now you’re talking,” her mom said and held out the glass of water.

“But just half of one, please. I don’t want to be all dopey.”

Her mom nodded and broke the pill in half, dropping one part back in the bottle and handing the remainder to Elle, who swallowed the pill. She only had ten in the prescription, and she’d probably just take this one. She didn’t need to spend a sleepless night tossing and turning from the lingering pain.