I’m a piece-of-shit friend.
Ask anyone right now, and they’d confirm it.
I’m selfish. Disloyal. A disrespectful prick to my best friend’s memory.
“You’re the only person who can touch me and doesn’t make my skin crawl,” Amelia says when I join her in my bed, fresh out of the shower.
I inhale my bodywash on her skin and my shampoo in her hair.
“Same.” I fall on my back and throw my arm over my face.
Amelia turns on her side, resting her elbow on the pillow, and stares down at me. “Should we feel guilty? Not even for us being together right now, but for the past too?”
This seems like a conversation we could have a million times over and still not figure out the correct answer to.
I slide my arm from my face, my eyes on her. “We never did anything while you and Chris were together.”
“Never.” She slams her eyes shut. “That’s what I’ll keep telling myself.”
I wonder how long we can go on like this—with the ghost of Chris, the guilt, the secrets, the fear of when people will find out. It’ll either make us stronger or drown us. One thing I know for sure is, Amelia and I need to be as discreet as possible for now. Whether the motel was a one-time thing or whether we continue to do this, it has to stay between us.
Until we know where our heads are, where are hearts are, we have to keep our relationship—or whatever this is—hidden.
I reach out and twist a strand of her wet hair around my finger. “You being with him was our problem all along, Millie.” I blow out a breath. “And I’m scared it’ll always be our problem.”
Her eyelashes flutter as she stares at me. “Are we destined to always be each other’s the one who got away?”
I stroke my thumb along her jaw. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Why didn’t you fight for me, Jax?”
“I never thought losing you was an option.” I shut my eyes. “Until it was too late.”