Wrong For Me

My dad is gone. I have no idea how to go forward, but tonight, I’ve decided I don’t even want to think about it. I want to pretend like nothing happened and try to sleep. When I wake up tomorrow, I’ll figure out what happens next.

I open my eyes and look to Rowan. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He doesn’t speak, just nods, a deep crease in his brow. “Or tonight, if you need to.”

With a flat smile, I pull my keys from my pocket, and I head for the door, waving at Rowan as I reach for the handle.

He pulls away right as the knob is yanked from my grasp.

My eyes fly forward as the door flies open.

Alec fucking Daniels is standing inside my home as if he still has the right.

“What the—”

“Save it, Oakley,” he cuts me off, his tone bored. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“How dare you! Get out of my house!”

I shove him, but he doesn’t budge. His large frame stays planted right in front of me.

“This is my home, my father’s home! For all I know, this is all your fault!” I shout, angry tears building. “We were fine before you showed up! Now, he’s dead … and your wife might be involved!”

“Oakley—”

“Wife, Alec! You’re fucking married! All the shit you did to get my attention, the shit you said to me, the things you did with me?” My head pulls back, anger evaporating for heartache, and I hate myself for showing it. “Just … leave. Go away. Go back to your home, wherever that is, and forget these last few weeks.”

“Can’t.”

A broken chuckle leaves me, and I want to fight. I want to argue, but I’ve got nothing left in me tonight. I’m about to crumble, and I’ll be damned if it’s in front of him.

“You know what?” I throw my hand up, my voice scratchy. “It doesn’t matter. Do what you want. You always do. I need to shower and sleep, and I can’t … I can’t even stand the sight of you right now.”

This time, he lets me shove past him, and I hustle down the hall, but when I pass his room, I jolt to a stop and take the two steps back to glance inside.

The air turns to stone, clogging my throat.

Four-inch tan heels lie at the foot of his bed, flower-print luggage scattered across the comforter we messed up just last night.

My chest grows tight, my knees weak, but somehow, I manage to turn my head when I feel him behind me.

My brows pull in as his jaw sets tight, deep creases forming at the edges, eyes as dead as his soul must be to dare this.

He wouldn’t … didn’t …

The creak of the bathroom door has my head pulling right.

Wearing a see-through satin-and-lace gown, she leans against the frame, her eyes raking over me in disdain before hitting mine.

Marissa fucking Daniels is in my home.

The corner of her mouth lifts as her head tilts mockingly. “Hey, roomie.”

What. The. Fuck?AlecI force my expression to be neutral as Oakley stands there, frozen for a split second, before she continues toward her room.

She looks unfazed, completely unaffected, but I can see it in her measured steps; she’s about to snap. And, truth be told, not sure what’ll happen when she does.

I move forward, planting both feet in front of Marissa, who has stepped to the middle of the hall.

She looks up, a small smile forming on her lips. “Husband.”

“Marissa.”

“Anything you’d like to share?”

“I was ’bout to ask you the same thing. Quite a surprise, you showing up like this.” I pop a brow.

She hums, stepping closer, her hands sliding up over my chest, and I force myself not to shove her off.

“How about a bedroom surprise?” she whispers. “It’s been too long. I need my man to remind me what he’s capable of.”

I grab her wrists and remove her from me. “We’ve got shit to talk about.”

Her tongue pokes out to touch my lips. “We can talk in the morning.”

“It can’t wait.” I go to push her through my bedroom door, but she jerks away, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Her wheels are spinning, and the last thing I need right now is for her to look closer, so I grab her by the front of her nightgown and yank her to me, biting into my cheek when she moans. I bring my hands around her frame and scoop her up, carrying her into my room.

The room where, just last night, I had my dream girl for the first time.

I’m going to hell.

“You’re right.” I toss her on the bed and walk back to the door to lock it. I turn to find a picture so fucked up I can’t even let myself stop to think about it. “We can talk tomorrow.”

She starts giggling, and then her nightgown hits the floor, my conscience buried somewhere beneath it.