Page 52 of Some Sort of Happy (Happy Crazy Love 1)
I pressed my lips together. Stared straight ahead.
“This is what I mean!” She glared at me but I kept my eyes on the road. “If you’d just tell me what’s going on in your head, maybe I could help!” she snapped.
God, she was so maddening—how could I explain that I had to keep her at a distance for both our sakes?
“You told me earlier today that you wanted to let me in. To give you time to let me in.” Her voice had softened a little. “And I wanted to. I was willing to. It was you who asked for more tonight.”
She was right. I felt some of my hardness crumbling, and I fought back. “Look, this is me. This is what I do. And if it’s too frustrating for you, then it’s better to end this now.”
“End what? We never started.” She looked away from me again.
A few minutes later, I pulled in her parents’ driveway. She had her hand on the door handle before I even put the truck in park.
“If you just wanted the lay, Sebastian, you could have said so,” she said bitterly. “You’re a great fuck.”
Then she jumped out, slammed the door and marched angrily over to her little house. When she disappeared inside without even pulling out a key, I realized she hadn’t even locked it tonight. Damn it, Skylar! You should lock your doors! The ferocious need to protect her growled and bit at me beneath my skin, and I thumped the steering wheel hard twice, fighting the urge to go make sure it was secure now.
The urge won. Furious, I strode to her door and tried the handle. Locked.
“Fuck you!” I heard her cry from inside. “Go away!”
Back in the truck, I threw it in reverse and tore out of there, tires spinning.
• • •
When I got home, it was after midnight. I went straight up to the loft, where her scent still lingered. After undressing, I lay on my stomach atop the sheets where she’d offered herself up to me, no questions asked. I closed my eyes and she appeared…sultry and brazen as she straddled me in the truck, shivering and sweet as she lay with me in the hammock, hotter than fuck sprawled under me in my bed.
Hurt and angry on the ride home.
Groaning, I punched the pillow twice and flipped over onto my back, staring at the sloping ceiling as my thoughts turned resentful.
Did she really think I’d used her just for sex? How could she, when I’d confessed to her how I used to feel about her ten years ago? When I’d told her today I wanted to let her in but needed time? Did she think I hadn’t meant the things I’d said?
It was just like a woman to say she understood about needing to give a guy time and then demand to know his feelings at every turn. What the fuck did she expect from me? I’d told her before things even got physical with us that I was bad at relationships and not interested in one. What else was there to tell her? If she didn’t want to hang out anymore, fine. Good. I didn’t need her. I didn’t need anyone. Better to be alone than a constant disappointment to someone.
At least she thought I was a great fuck.
“Wow. You look kind of rough. Late night?” Natalie’s brows lifted suggestively.
“Sort of.” Listlessly, I stacked coffee cups behind the counter. I’d hardly slept, and I was so tired when my alarm went off I’d nearly called in sick.
“Did you have fun?” Natalie prompted, loading muffins into the display case.
“Yes.” I sighed. “And then no. I need coffee.”
“Help yourself.” She nodded toward the pot. “Why no?”
As we went through the morning routine, I filled her in on what I’d learned about Sebastian over the last couple days—his OCD, his fear of harming people, his past, his cabin, his family, his aversion to relationships, his former crush on me…everything I knew. I even told her about snooping in his notebook.
She gasped. “What? That’s awful! I can’t believe you did that!”
I grimaced. “I know. I shouldn’t have. But I was so curious about him, and he wouldn’t talk to me! He still won’t.”
She looked confused. “What do you mean? You just told me a crap ton of info about him. Didn’t he tell you all that?”
My chin slid forward. “Well, yeah, he tells me that kind of stuff. But he doesn’t—” I stopped. He did talk to me, it wasn’t that so much. “OK, it’s not that he won’t talk, it’s that he will, and he says these sweet, crazy things, and then stuff happens, and he freaks out and turns into an asshole. He’s too hot and cold.”
“What kind of stuff happens?” she asked, her eyebrows lifting.
