No doubt her appointment was to meet her dealer.
“God, you’re such a jerk.” She pushed me so hard with both hands that I crashed into the bathroom wall. “Thanks for the fuck, asshole. Now get the hell out.”
I didn’t hesitate. I strode back to the bedroom, yanked on my jeans, grabbed my shirt, and pulled it on while heading to the front door.
Then I stopped. I ran my finger over the ink on my right arm, the butterfly. This is why I had to walk. Drugs. Fuck. The pain in my chest was agonizing, like a vise gripping around my heart so tight that it was going to explode at any minute. I needed air—fast. I was drowning in the memories of Haven, and if I didn’t get out of here, I was going to throw up.
“Tell anyone and I’ll castrate you.”
I walked back toward her and I witnessed the flicker of panic in her eyes. Kat was fearless, at least that’s what I’d thought. I grabbed her by the arms before she had the chance to escape.
“Why?” I shouted. I had to know. “Jesus, why?” Why did she have to ruin this?
And I wasn’t letting her go until she told me. I needed to hear it from her lips. I think she must have known because she blurted it out.
I abruptly released her. She continued to speak, but my mind became black muddled sewage and I didn’t hear any of it.
No. Fuck no.
Control was slipping and I had to get out of here—fast. I couldn’t breathe. I was suffocating. I had no control and it would kill me. I couldn’t stop the emotions from plowing into me. I never expected I’d give a shit, but at that moment I knew that Kat had been more than a forty-eight hour fuck.
Now … now that was shattered. Her words crushed the smidgeon of hope I had of pulling up the anchor and being set free.
Without saying anything, because I was seriously too fucked up to say anything, I walked out.
Kat
My hips swayed to the beat of the music, my hands above my head, and a pair of hands settled firm on my waist. It had been two days since I’d seen Ream, and I still felt sick to my stomach. I thought coming to Avalanche and dancing would help me forget him … instead, it helped me remember, so I medicated myself with shots of vodka.
I hated every second of the guy’s hands on me, but it was my punishment, self-preservation to convince myself that Ream was just another guy. No big deal.
Every swallow was like I had an apple lodged in my throat. Every breath sucked me under a little farther until the vodka made it a dull, aching pain.
I’d never told anyone about the drugs. Not even Emily knew. Only Matt. And Ream just proved what I expected to happen if anyone found out … would happen.
The male voice whispered in my ear and cut through my thoughts. “Come back to my place tonight, sweetness.”
I shivered and it wasn’t good shivers. Feeling him rub against me was supposed to make me feel wanted; instead, it made me feel repulsed. Jesus, even my usual flirting took a kick to the stomach by Ream’s rejection.
I normally thrived off attention. It didn’t mean I acted on it. The men were all for show, a way to make myself feel desirable. And guys went for me—blonde, tall, long legs. I loved to flirt. I was confident with my looks, but inside … inside I was disintegrating.
But, I tried to live every single day with no regrets.
Until now.
Now I regretted.
Ream I regretted. Because before him no guy mattered enough to hurt me like he did. It was supposed to be a quick lay, but something had built between us in the time we’d hung out together at the farm. There’d been no sex and I think that’s why this hurt more. We’d become friends and now that was gone.
For two weeks we were just ourselves, hurting and worried over our friends while supporting one another. There were no games, no sexual play, we were natural and at ease with one another. It was only when Emily returned that it changed. We’d planned on a one nighter, neither of us wanting more, but something happened between us. I thought Ream had felt it too. I was wrong. What was worse was that I missed just hanging out with Ream every day. That hurt more than the sex.
“Kat.” His voice. Jesus, I still heard it in my head. What the hell was wrong with me? Why did it hurt so bad? The sex was good, I mean he was rough and I could tell he liked having control, and I was good with that. Actually, I realized that it was hot letting him take control. I had it in every other part of my life, so letting him take charge was refreshing. But it hadn’t just been mind-blowing, life altering sex. I sensed his distance, the need to have it hard and fast and then that thing with not wanting me to finish the blow job … yeah, there was something—
“Kat.”
Oh God. His voice was real. I stopped moving and looked over my shoulder at the man that had caused me to take a few more of the pills in my nightstand than I normally would.
“We need to talk.”
Ream stood in the middle of the dance floor, his face tight, lips pursed together, and he wasn’t looking at me, he was looking at the guy behind me. Shit, he was royally pissed off. The question was whether it was at me or the guy he was driving nails into with his stare.
“You had your chance, asshole. And second ones don’t exist in my world.” I grabbed my dance partner’s hand and pulled him through the crowd toward the bar.
My heart pounded so goddamn fast it was painful.
“Screw off,” Ream said to the guy, coming up beside us. There was no mistake that it wasn’t a request.