Thoughtful (Thoughtless, #1.5)(50)

She started making the pot, and I had to close my eyes. Everything she did was so loud. When she was done tormenting me, she asked, “How did you know Denny was back?”

I sank my head to the table and groaned. My brain was throbbing against my skull. Everything hurt. Even her question. How did I know? Because I heard you. I heard you having sex with him, right after having sex with me. “Saw his coat,” I mumbled.

“Oh.” I felt my heart drop. That’s all she has to say to me? “Oh”? Apparently it wasn’t, for she quickly added, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I snapped my eyes to hers. You f*cked me, then my best friend. I love you. Nothing about this is okay, so quit f*cking asking me that. “I’m fine,” I stated, my voice cold.

She seemed confused by my words and my actions. Was I really so confusing? She was the one who was hard to understand. She loved Denny, but she looked at me like I was something special. While she went about finishing the coffee, I thought about Bumbershoot. That day had been amazing. The way we’d held each other, the way she’d sought my comfort. It was almost like Denny hadn’t even existed. What had changed? Or was she using me even back then? No, she’d cared…the talks we’d had, the way she listened to my music, my lyrics, the way she’d pried into my soul. She had cared. Maybe she still did. Maybe she was torn, confused, overwhelmed. Maybe she was hurting, and I just wasn’t seeing it.

When the coffee was done, she grabbed two mugs from the cabinet. Heart in my hands, I risked a question that could lead to a really hard conversation. But maybe it was time we had a hard conversation. We’d never talked about us. We’d always ignored the things that had happened. I couldn’t ignore this though. I needed to know if I meant anything to her.

“Are you…okay?” I asked. It was a loaded question, a stupid question. I should have just manned up and asked her what I really wanted to know. What am I to you?

She gave me a bright, chipper smile. “Yes, I’m great.”

Her face, her words, they confirmed everything I’d already known. I didn’t mean a goddamn thing to her. I felt like I was going to be sick right here at the table. I laid my arms down and buried my head in them. She was great…and I wished I’d never been born. I could feel my eyes water, so I concentrated on my breathing. I was not about to give her the satisfaction of seeing my pain. My emotional pain, anyway. That was mine; she didn’t have a right to it.

I could hear her pouring the cups of coffee. I needed to mellow out, shove down the feelings bubbling up, threatening to devour me. She was Denny’s, I knew that. She’d used me; I was used to that. I could get over this. I had to. I needed help though. Even though I’d overdone it the last couple of nights, I needed alcohol. Twisting my head so my mouth was clear, I told Kiera, “Put a little Jack in that.” She smirked at me, like she thought I was joking. Did anything about me right now seem like I was kidding? She was causing me pain; I wanted to numb it. A few shots of Jack Daniels would do the trick. A equals B. The least she could do was humor me.

I raised my head. Struggling to remain polite, I told her, “Please.”

She sighed and muttered something that sounded like “Whatever,” and I laid my head back down. I didn’t need her to understand, I just needed her to comply.

I heard her rummaging through the liquor cabinet above the fridge. I didn’t move when she found the bottle and set it in front of me. She came back a moment later with the mug and set it in front of me too. I still didn’t move. After a second of my stillness, she poured some alcohol into my mug, then started to screw on the cap. I knew she wouldn’t pour nearly enough in, so without even looking, I coughed to get her attention, then motioned for more. She sighed, but she did it.

I lifted my head and, out of habit, I gave her a soft, “Thank you.” Thank you for ripping my heart out. Thank you for showing me something I can never have. Thank you for looking so beautiful this morning, it makes me want to tear my eyes out. Thank you for not seeing me as anything more than a release.

“Kellan…” she finally began. I took a long draw of coffee. Here we go…“The other night…” She stared at me while I stared back at her. Yes, the other night when I touched every inch of your body, dipped my tongue inside you, pushed myself into you over and over until you came around me…that night? Or did you have a different night in mind?

She cleared her throat, looking very uncomfortable. If sex makes you so uneasy, Kiera, maybe you shouldn’t be doing it. Especially when you don’t mean it. Finally, she murmured, “I just don’t want a…misunderstanding.”

I could feel my blood begin to boil as I took another long draw of coffee. Really? A misunderstanding? She was going to use my words against me? She was going to compare what we’d done to what I’d done with Joey? We’d had meaningless sex, and she was asking for nothing to change between us. She wanted us to go back to what we were before, so she and Denny could move forward with their happy ending. Nope, no misunderstanding. I meant nothing to her.

“Kiera…there are no misunderstandings between us,” I told her, my voice flat. There is nothing between us. There never was.





Chapter 11





Holding On to Anger




Denny came down a while later, and I quickly excused myself and got out of there. I couldn’t deal with Denny yet. I could barely deal with me. I kept shifting between anger, guilt, resignation, and sadness. I wasn’t sure where I’d finally end up. Except alone. That was pretty much a given.