Growling, I rushed forward and punched the mirror on the wall. The glass shattered, pieces falling apart and dropping just like my heart did the night Janet died. Trickles of blood formed from deep cuts on my balled fists. It sucked because I felt nothing, and all I wanted to do was feel—feel something. Feel anything. Feel her… the sweet, beautiful girl.

But Chloe… no.

My head shook as I glared at my scattered reflection, eyes dark and lips thin. I couldn’t touch her again, no matter how hard it would be. This would change everything between us—all we’d established. The bond we’d created over the years. All of it was now gone. Flushed away like it never existed.

Although she may have wanted it, Chloe wasn’t the type to come running to me, begging for more. She was the type to sit around and wait for me to speak up and make a move no matter how awkward she felt about previous actions. And she was too smart to inform Izzy… fuck, Izzy. I hoped she never found out.

She liked me, and I liked how she made me feel like I wasn’t a total fucking loser. As badly as I would have loved to keep going, make her mine by taking her over and over again in every possible way, I just couldn’t do that to her. I should have paid attention. I should’ve taken notice of the pain that ran across her face when I first entered, how she held me tight, nails biting flesh.

She deserved better than having to deal with my brokenness, a man with no self-control—no guidance. A man with a dark past and an even darker heart. That was my mistake, leading her on like that, taking from her what so clearly didn’t justify being mine.

Sad, I couldn’t even hold it in anymore. My cock throbbed hard when I saw it was her head that was between my legs, pulling my boots from my feet in a gesture not even meant to spark lust. He’d been begging me more and more to make a move whenever she made an appearance. The first few nights, I did pretty well, controlling my raging hormones, but that fourth, fateful night took a turn on us.

She wanted me. She knew better, but she wanted me to take her raw on that bed. Help me forget for just a little while. Allow me to remember that there were still options. I felt horrible fucking Chloe on the bed I shared with a wife that hadn’t even been dead for a year, but I couldn’t help myself.

I had to claim it. I had to show her that she wasn’t the only one feeling those urges, wondering about the maybes and the what ifs. She needed to know that I, Theo Black, was far from a saint, and that I constantly had some wicked thoughts about her.

She needed to know… I just wanted to show her… that’s understandable, right? Right?

Fucking moron, my heart whispered.

Fucking champ, my cock chanted.

I don’t even fucking know, my helpless mind murmured.

Shit. I had no clue what to think anymore.

FOUR

Theo didn’t come home the following night. No loud, angry music. No metal tools clanking around. No empty glasses slamming on the concrete. Just peace and quiet. It felt strange.

I didn’t like it.

I wondered where he was, what he was doing, or worse—if he was still alive.

The question of him being alive was shortly answered when I heard the grumble of his motorcycle. The growl came to a hush, engine shutting off, and I dropped my book, uncrossed my legs, and narrowed my eyes as I walked towards the window.

Looking out, I watched as he stumbled towards the door, pulling out his key and struggling to stick it into the lock. My window was cracked, so I heard him curse beneath his breath as he tried getting it in. I rolled my eyes. At least he hadn’t passed out again. He’d gone elsewhere to get drunk. Maybe he did understand me last night.

Finally, he was inside, and I was relieved. I shut my window and locked it, walking back to my leather recliner in the corner and returning to my book. I was curious about what he was doing, though. Thinking about him distracted me from devouring the romance novel I’d just bought.

I shut the book, blowing out a heavy puff of breath as I climbed out of the recliner and entered my bathroom. I took a long shower, tossed on a large black T-shirt, and climbed into bed, shutting the lamp off.

Moments later, as I lay in darkness, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was a text from Izzy.

Izzy: My dad isn’t answering his phone. Is he okay?

I responded quickly.

Me: He’s fine. Just saw him getting home. I’m sure he’ll call.

Izzy: Ok. Good. I was a little worried. Keep an eye on him, will u?

I struggled between a true laugh and a scoff. Yeah, I thought. I’ve been doing that all damn summer.

Me: I will.

Izzy: Thanks, Chlo. Ur the best.

I started to ask her how the college life was going, but my mind changed within the same moment. I wasn’t up for chatting, not after feeling like I’d betrayed her. I couldn’t believe I still hadn’t told her what was going on. She deserved the truth, even if that meant losing her.

I just couldn’t imagine her reaction.

I’d seen Izzy angry, sad, depressed, happy, content, and even confused, but I wasn’t sure what I’d get if word got out that I’d messed around with her dad. Ignoring my guilt, I shut my eyes and curled up beneath the blanket, drifting off to sleep.

The next day, around dusk, I went for a jog at the neighborhood park. Stress had been eating away at me. I was done packing for school and tired of being cooped up in the house. With Izzy gone, I had no one to hang with, so I slid into some jogging pants and a tank, tied my hair up, and was out of the door in seconds, my earphones wedged in my ears.

I started a light jog to the park, waving at a few of the neighbors. All of them were so full of shit. All stuck up and rude, but I was the type that liked to play nice when I had to. The manners Dad taught me, I suppose.

Finally reaching the park, I picked up my pace, hitting the trail and then meeting at the track, running it four times while catchy tunes filled my head. The running distracted my clustered mind for at least fifteen minutes, the air filling my working lungs, the wind nipping my damp skin. I felt great when I finished. I even sang along to some of the music, stretching on the park bench before heading back home.

But that momentary feeling of peace vanished when I saw a shirtless Theo Black running along the same trail. He had on headphones, muscles glistening, and his body art standing out more than ever.

He caught me bending in front of the fountain and slowed down just a little. His gaze matched mine, uncertain, but immediately, he picked up his pace, rushing through a thick line of trees and down a different trail, a rockier one that was harder to traverse.

I shouldn’t have felt so angry, but watching him disappear and act like I didn’t even exist had me heated. And it was a shame because I swore I wouldn’t let the emotion take over me. Lies. All lies.

There was something about the way he looked at me—so many unanswered questions in his eyes. So much confusion, guilt, but most of all, a recognizable lust. Perhaps that was the reason he took off.

I stopped my stretching, took a sip from the fountain, and then turned to jog back home. I didn’t make it to the exit of the park though, because there he was again. He appeared on the trail I took, panting heavy, eyes hard on mine. I stopped in my tracks, forehead creased, eyebrows stitched.

“Chloe,” he said after catching breath. He snatched off his headphones and stood up straight, sweat enhancing his rock-solid body, streaming down his chest. “Can we talk… please?”