Three Guilty Pleasures (Blindfold Club 6)

I squeezed the chairback so hard, my hands ached. Don’t do it. Do not look at him.

His eyes were wild. He was a mess, and while the angry part of me took pleasure in that, the rest of me suffered along with him.

“It was an accident,” he said. “I didn’t mean to take it. If we could just talk, I can explain.”

I went down to the place inside myself where I was safe from emotion. Cut off completely from feeling anything. It wasn’t subspace—the euphoric place I could reach sometimes while doing a scene—but a disconnected void.

I didn’t recognize my own voice. “Did you read it?”

Shame was a terrible, heavy burden, and he put a hand on the doorframe to support himself. “Yes.”

The bees in my stomach got angrier, threatening to come out. I swallowed a shallow breath. “All of it?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

Which meant he knew all my sins. Every dark detail I’d put down on paper, which had only been meant for me. I wasn’t going to buy any excuse or explanation on how he’d “accidentally” read the entire thing. No one had forced him to, or to steal it in the first place. Those were choices he’d made, and now we were both going to have to live with them.

“We have nothing to talk about.” My skin was cold and unfeeling. “Give me my journal and get the fuck out. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

-32-

Grant

As soon as I handed over Tara’s journal, the guy slammed her door in my face.

I stood in the hallway, shouting my apologies through the door, until he yelled back that if I didn’t leave, he’d call the police.

My head was a jumble of terrible Afrikaans words, all ones I’d use to describe myself. I’d fucked this up on so many levels, I didn’t know how I was going to undo any of it. How I was going to make it right. Was that even possible?

I texted Ruby from the steps outside Tara’s apartment building and told her I needed to see her immediately.

Ruby: I’m at Kyle’s.

Ruby: I mean my place. Come over, you can help us unpack boxes.

My jaw set. I’d forgotten she moved in with him yesterday, and in my foul mood, I didn’t want to deal with McAsshole. But I didn’t have a choice. I was desperate for her advice, and they were a package deal now. Maybe he’d be able to help.

I’d never been to his apartment before, and when I arrived, my irritation escalated. Not only was Ruby on the far side of town from me now, but she lived in a penthouse. The end unit was all windows and spectacular views of the Chicago River.

“You look like shit,” she said. We stood in the kitchen area beside the marble-topped island. Kyle was nearby, pounding nails into the wall to hang her series of pictures. He looked weird being handy. He was one of those guys who was always put together and polished. Like he’d just finished doing an Instagram photoshoot. He seemed more likely to know how to use a hair dryer than a hammer.

I scrubbed my hand over my face. “Rube, I fucked up.”

She looked alarmed. “What’d you do?”

I set my hands on the countertop and hung my head. It was embarrassing to admit it, especially with him hanging around, but at the same time, I deserved it. I was a glutton for punishment right now.

“Tara keeps a journal. It’s a long story, and I can’t really get into the ‘why,’ other than I’m a curious motherfucker and a bloody idiot, but . . . I took it.” I sighed. “And I read it.”

Kyle’s hammer stopped mid-swing so he could raise an eyebrow. “You read her diary?”

“Are you insane? What’s wrong with you?” Ruby demanded.

“I just told you, I’m a fucking idiot.”

She put her hands on her hips and scowled. “Does she know?”

“Oh, she’s quite aware.”