Untouchable (Untouchables, 1)

I stop walking and turn back to look at him, my eyes flashing. “I gave you the benefit of the doubt, Carter. I initially thought she took advantage of you because you were asleep, but the problem with that is, you woke up. And when you woke up, you kept going. Not only did you kiss her back, let her grind against you without a shirt on and touch her, I watched you take charge. If you had enough of your bearings to take control, you had enough not to do it in the first place. But you expect me to believe you didn’t know what was happening? Was the feel of her naked breasts not a big enough clue? Maybe I could have let you off the hook for just kissing her back when you woke up because I can believe that your head wasn’t clear yet, I can believe you were disoriented for a minute. I can’t believe that you didn’t know what you were doing after that, though. That doesn’t check out.”

“Haven’t you ever woken up exhausted and not thinking clearly?”

“Of course, but I didn’t roll over and maul anyone by accident.”

Grabbing my arm lightly, he pulls me closer to him, trying to suck me into his vortex. His voice calms, like he knows he needs to take control of the wheel before I navigate us into a brick wall. “Zoey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for whatever you saw. Believe me, I will have words with her about this bullshit, but this is not worth breaking up over. I wasn’t lying to you. I told you nothing happened, and from my perspective, nothing did. Not really. As soon as I realized what I was doing, I stopped.”

“And as soon as I realized I can’t trust you and this relationship will never not be hard and stressful, I stopped,” I shoot back, firmly. Pulling away, I take a couple steps back and shake my head. “There’s nothing you can say to change my mind. I’ve thought about it all morning, and I honestly think this is for the best.”

“You can trust me,” he says, his eyes flashing with irritation. “I didn’t cheat, I didn’t even really lie.”

Shaking my head, I ask the question that’s really been on my mind all morning. “Why were you even at her house in the first place, Carter?”

That takes some of the wind out of his sails.

“It was after our date, exactly like she said. It was late. I don’t understand why you were there, and honestly, I don’t think you should have been.”

It takes him a moment to answer that one. He looks away from me for a few seconds, then brings his gaze back. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have been there.”

“But you were. Why?”

Sighing, he shakes his head and avoids my gaze. “It was before we slept together, Zoey. We weren’t 100 percent certain yet. Erika was texting me, and… it was stupid, incredibly stupid, and I regretted it immediately. That’s why I didn’t want to say anything to you, I knew it was a mistake, I knew it could only possibly hurt your feelings, and I… I didn’t want you to find out. I didn’t plan on doing anything, but I did think about it.”

That sucks. I should probably say something back, but anger and disappointment fuse together and begin to bubble under the surface of my skin. I really don’t want to get emotional, especially in front of him. I think he’ll take advantage of it the second I stop being logical and let him access my feelings. So, I won’t. I seal myself behind a wall Carter can’t penetrate and tell him evenly, “Well, I wish you all the best. Goodbye, Carter.”

“I’m just being honest, Zoey,” he states.

“Maybe, but it’s too late.” With that, I summon every ounce of grace I can scrape up and walk away.

Chapter 38

Flipping through the dented, glossy pages of an old magazine, I do my best to focus on the reading material. The wait at the doctor’s office is taking forever. I’ve already thumbed through the trashy celebrity gossip magazines and the single issue of Time, so that only left me with a fitness magazine from last year, or the current parenting magazine with an adorable baby on the cover offering me a big, gummy grin.

Currently I am trying to focus on how to banish that stubborn tricep fat so I can rock a tank top like the hottest Hollywood starlets.

Glancing up from the magazine, I look at the reception desk again. The woman closed the frosted window after checking in the last patient, and now I can’t keep my gaze from drifting over to them. A woman and her husband are seated on the other side. Her stomach is protruding, her hand absently rubbing the big bump.