Yeah, he looks like a guy who knows exactly what he wants.

I back away before they notice me and return to my car. Feels like I’m walking through a thickening fog, battling against rising water.

I’ve been living a lie for months now. Waiting for him to make up his mind, to make the final move. Thinking I was the problem—my inexperience, my insecurity. Thinking he wanted me but was being nice.

What the hell just happened? Why would he insist he wants me if he doesn’t? What’s the matter with this guy?

My feelings are a whirlwind as I climb into my car and turn on the engine. I’m upset. Betrayed. Angry. Hurt.

But I also feel strangely relieved. Like I thought I was going crazy, that I was imagining something was off, that I was acting like a bitch, like a slut, like a crazy person, when he was stringing me along and seeing someone else.

I’m not crazy.

I still hurt, though. And I’m really pissed. How could he do this to me? Let me believe I wasn’t good enough.

Hot tears are rolling down my cheeks. I lick my lips and I taste their saltiness. Screw you, Fred, with your artistic ways and gentle manners. Screw your lies and your games. I want…

Christ, what do I want?

“If you’d let me, I’d show you how a boyfriend should treat you.” That’s what Seth said to me just yesterday. Seth with his dark eyes and even darker shadows, with his powerful body and sexy ways.

I’m turning the car about and driving toward him before I even know what I’m doing. I just know he’s the only one who can keep me from sinking to the bottom tonight.

Chapter Thirteen

Seth

Jesse’s here.

I thought I’d escaped interrogation for the weekend. Needed a reprieve after Manon left yesterday. After I realized she still wants the douche who isn’t sure if he wants to be her boyfriend or her brother, and that I’ve been pushing her for nothing. The only thing I succeeded in doing was to scare her and push her away.

Yeah, I needed some downtime to lick my wounds and discreetly beat my head against the fucking wall.

Somehow, with the sinkhole my life has become and the news of my mom returning from the grave, you’d think driving Manon away would be the least of my worries.

Well, it fucking ain’t. It’s killing me. It’s a fucking huge hole in my chest that won’t let me eat or sleep or think straight. Between beating myself up and remembering how she felt, how she looked, how she sounded, well… It’s a miracle I’m still sane.

Now if only Jesse would just fucking go… He’s been sitting here for well over an hour, trying to get me to go out with him for a bite and to talk, and neither is on today’s list. Especially not the talking part.

At least he’s brought me my walking stick.

“Come on, man.” He gives me his best puppy-eyes impression. “You can talk to me. You’re the only one who believed me back when everyone thought I’d cheated on Amber. You stood by me. Let me do the same for you.”

“I appreciate it, bro,” I tell him and mean it. “There’s nothing to talk about, though.”

“Don’t lie to me, Seth. Rafe said your mom’s back and asking you to pay her bail. Said you refused. Said your leg was broken—your other leg, dammit, the good leg—years ago, and you won’t tell him anything about it. And you lost your job because of the beating—a beating you took because of me! Fucking hell.”

Jesus. “This isn’t on you, J. None of it is.”

“So you say. I know you wouldn’t have been in bed with a broken leg for two months if you hadn’t been there with me.”

Fuck. Guess I’m not the only one beating myself up.

“I’m the one who took you out for drinks that fucking night,” I remind him. “If anything, I’m the reason all of it happened.”

But at least for Jesse it ended well. His girl found him, they talked, realized they were good and got their happy ending.

Unlike me.

Yeah, okay, stop whining, Seffers. Just fucking stop.

“How come you haven’t found a job yet?” Jesse goes on, oblivious. “Anything I can do? I could ask around.”

“That’d be great,” I mutter, wondering why my eyes feel hot. I’m really off my game these days. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Sure. And at least let me get some food into you,” Jesse mutters. “You look like roadkill.”

Yeah, I really have to look like shit for Jesse to insist so much.

“Nah, I’m good. Really. I ate late.” As lies go, it’s not a big one, and yet I feel bad for lying to Jesse, of all people. He doesn’t lie, ever. It’s a matter of principle with him. “I think I’ll turn in early tonight.”

He finally takes the hint and gets up. “Okay, sure thing. I’ll leave you to it. Just…” He rubs at the crease between his brows. “I’m here, buddy, you know that, right? For anything you need. Anything that’s been bothering you. Fuck, I won’t judge. You’re my best friend. Let me help in any way I can.”

“Gotcha, man. Thanks.”

Jeez, my eyes do that burning thing again. Need to get them looked at.

But he’s wrong. He can’t help me. He’ll turn his back when he finds out the truth, like everyone who ever did. He thinks he knows me, but he doesn’t.

See, he was saved, and when you’ve been saved, you think you can save everyone else, too. God, I wish that were true.

We do our fist-bumping, back-thumping thing, and he’s on his way, leaving me alone again in my apartment.

The apartment I can’t afford. The roof I thought was solid until the world started caving in once more.

When the doorbell rings, I open the door automatically, prepared to tell Jesse to go to hell, if that’s the only way to get rid of him tonight.

Should’ve known by now life likes to spring surprises on me just to see me jump out of my fucking skin.

“Manon?” I whisper, my voice choked. What the fuck?

“Does your offer still stand?” she asks, and that’s when I notice her eyes are red-rimmed and wet.

Oh shit.

I don’t ask what offer she’s talking about. It doesn’t matter. Whatever she needs, I’ll fucking give to her.

I haul her inside, pull her into my arms and let her cry.

***

Somehow we end up on the sofa, curled up together, my arms full of sobbing girl and my T-shirt wet with tears and snot. She’s clinging to me as if she’s drowning, and I won’t let her. I know what it’s like to hit rock-bottom, and nobody should have to do it alone.

I rock her a little, kiss her hair.

Fuck, I told myself I wouldn’t do this again, I wouldn’t set myself up for another soul-crushing disappointment by letting her inside.

Yet here I am. Stupid or not, there’s no other place in the world I’d rather be right now and that, right there, tells you all you need to know about how I feel.

How I fucking ache for this girl.

“What’s wrong?” I ask her quietly, rocking her in my arms. “How can I help?”

“Hold me,” she whispers, and I tighten my grip on her, as if she’s made of mist and will vanish the moment I let go.

“I’ve got you. Everything’s okay.”

“I want you to show me.”

“Show you?” What the hell is she talking about?

“You said you would.” She’s a soft, warm weight on my legs, on my chest. Her hair has come loose and is spilling like silk over my arms. “Christ, it’s as if I’m just not good enough. For anyone.”

“What the hell are you saying?” I pull her to me, a fierce embrace. She’s mine, and someone hurt her. I’ll kill the motherfucker. “Who told you such things?”

“Nobody did. But I know it.” Her voice cracks. “Mom left when I was little, didn’t take me with her, and Dad wasn’t there often. Said it was his job to travel, playing in concerts, but… I know, all right? When I’m not enough.”

“Shh, don’t say such things.” My heart is pounding. I know too fucking well what she’s talking about. “That doesn’t mean you’re not good enough.”