Wrong For Me

He yanks the door open and turns his glare on me, so I flip him off and hop inside, slamming the door behind me.

Soon as he’s behind the wheel, I start.

“Another fire, really?”

The vein in his neck thumps hard against his skin, he’s seconds away from losing it. “Towels.”

“That was stupid.”

“Tossed em on a float in the pool. It’s contained.”

Course it is, he’s not only trained to put out the flames but how to purposely cause them without risk, the big bad Blaze.

“You’re impulsive.”

He jerks to a stop and slides over in his seat, anger lacing his features. “They’re lucky I didn’t burn the fucking place down. And the next time you take off, I don’t give a shit where you go, it’ll be ashes as I drag your ass out. Don’t wanna be responsible for something burning to the ground? Stay. Fucking. Put.”

Frustration and anger turn into hot tears and I jerk away from him. “I hate you.”

He takes off, more force behind his foot than necessary. “Yeah, well.” His voice loses some of its vigor. “Guess we’re bout back where we started, huh?”

Not even close.

I fight a growl, shifting my glare out the side window.

This is a fucking nightmare.

I’m in hell.

And Alec is the devil.

And married.

And he fucked his wife on the bed he’d fucked me on … with me right down the hall.

He lit his brother’s house on fire.

I mean, what in the hell?

I’m disgusted with myself for even caring about these things when my focus should be on the fact that my father is gone. It’s as if Alec’s drama is clouding the thoughts of my dad, and I hate it.

I shouldn’t be thinking about anything other than the one man I could always depend on. Shouldn’t want to hug and hold anyone but him right now, yet I can’t help but wish I had a strong, tattooed shoulder to lean on. To tell me that, one day, everything will be okay when it seems so far-fetched.

I glance at Alec, and his eyes hit mine a moment before focusing back on the road.

In the last few weeks, even leading up to early this morning, I’d have claimed to have three people who cared for me.

Now, I’m not so sure I even have one.

I like to think Rowan does, but our friendship took a hit when everything with Alec came to light, and it has me questioning everything I’d thought I knew about him. He had known that Alec had feelings for me and made him feel like shit about it—to the point where Alec willingly filled the bully role. Rowan had kept me close to keep me away from his brother, which led me to believe he cared for me deeper than he showed, but apparently, he never did. It was all for fear of losing me.

But I’d never have abandoned his friendship, no matter where things might have gone with Alec, something I’d thought he understood.

Still, he’s been my best friend for a long time. Maybe I’m just pissed at the world, and there’s a deeper reason he and I have never worked. I think we’re past due for a serious conversation. I’m just not ready to have it yet. Either way, I don’t want him as mine anymore.

I just want my friend.

When Alec turns left instead of right at the intersection, I swallow.

“Where are you going?”

He takes a deep breath. He mutters his words through a wounded exhale, “You know where I’m going.”

He’s right; I do.

“We don’t even have to talk,” he speaks low, but his face hardens in disapproval. “Just blow off some steam. Your adrenaline had you starting to crash, and now, I’ve jacked you back up again. You’ve gotta work it out—”

“I know how this shit works!” I snap, yanking a T-shirt and shorts from my bag that he apparently grabbed after he tossed me over his shoulder. “And I don’t want to be alone with you.”

“Well … I need to be alone with you, Oakley. Just for a little while.”

With a shake of my head, I pull on the shirt over my head and step into the shorts, tossing the towel to the floorboard.

“And then what, Alec? Hmm?” I don’t turn to him but stare straight ahead. “You take me back to my house. Fuck your wife in my spare room. Disrespect the man you claimed that his opinion meant everything to you,” I scoff. “Bet he’d be real proud of how you tricked his daughter into believing you gave a damn when—”

“Stop!” he shouts, making me jump when his hand hits the steering wheel. “There’s more going on here than you realize. I can’t just … I need you to understand.”

“Understand what? That you’re a lying asshole?”

He seems to think a moment before he speaks, “Understand that there are more versions of ourselves than we like to admit. The version you know is real, right. The one she knows is anything but.”