What I Need Page 47


I like it way too fucking much.

“Don’t call me again,” she hisses into the phone. “If you do, I won’t accept it. I promise you, I won’t.” Riley ends the call, lowers her hands to her sides and drops her head. Her breathing is loud and labored.

I want to break every bone in that motherfucker’s body.

“Riley.” I take a step into the room but halt when she turns around.

She looks surprised that I’m in here and that I’m speaking to her after the bullshit I put her through today, but she covers it quickly, closing her eyes and then wiping the tears from her face with her sleeve. When she looks at me again, there’s nothing there. No shock. No hurt. Nothing. And knowing she's hiding how she feels from me is worse than actually seeing it. It makes my fucking chest ache.

“Babe, look I’m—”

“I’m really tired. I’m going to go to bed now,” Riley interrupts, tucking her phone into her front pocket, pushing her hair behind her ears and then nervously pulling the sleeves over her hands to hide them. She lets her eyes fall to a spot on the floor between us.

She’s waiting for me to leave.

I grip the back of my neck, squeezing hard.

I don’t buy Riley being tired. That prick upset her after I made shit uncomfortable, and now she’s wanting space.

Space from me.

I’ll leave. Fuck. I’ll do whatever she wants, but I’m not going anywhere until I know Riley’s not going to be in here crying alone.

“You all right?” I ask her, dropping my hand.

She lifts her eyes to me. “I’m just tired,” she says again, shoulder jerking and mouth trying to smile.

I still don’t believe her. And that smile isn’t hers. I know Riley’s smile.

I pull in a deep breath, looking at her, watching her eyes cut away again.

Yeah. She's definitely wanting space. And I’ll give it to her, whatever she wants, but I’m getting this out first.

“If you need to talk or if you just want someone to listen, you know where I am,” I say, gaining her eyes again and watching them widen the slightest bit. “If you feel like crying, I don’t want you staying in here alone, darlin’. I want you with me. Either come to my room or I’ll come to you. I don’t care what time it is. Okay?”

This isn't negotiable, and I think she hears that in my voice.

Riley hesitates for a breath, staring at me while she tugs on her sleeves. “Okay,” she says, voice quiet.

“Good.” I drop my head with a nod. “And, babe?”

“Yes?”

“I fucked up today. Tomorrow won’t be like that.”

I watch Riley stop fidgeting, blink, and part her lips before I’m turning away from her and heading out of the room.

My legs feel heavy. I don’t want to leave her.

“CJ?”

I stop just outside my bedroom door and look back over my shoulder. Riley is standing out in the hallway now too.

“Yeah?” I ask.

She gives me a soft smile, and the sweetest fucking “Goodnight,” she’s ever given me.

My chest gets tight. I stand there, watching her. Wanting her. Jesus, I want her. But she wants space. If she needs you, she’ll say it, I remind myself. And she doesn’t. Riley doesn’t ask me to stay with her. So I don’t linger when I want to. I give her what she needs.

“Goodnight, darlin’.”

Getting that from me, Riley keeps her smile, steps back into her bedroom, and closes the door.

 

 

I RUSH HOME after clinical and park in the spot I’ve claimed as my own, beside CJ's old, white pick-up truck in the driveway.

I’m meeting up with Mia, Tessa, and Beth tonight for girl’s night. Beth invited me. And I really want to shower and change before I head over to McGill’s. I smell like a combination of hospital antiseptic and latex.

Not a good smell on any night of the week, but especially not a good one on a girl's night. I'd prefer to smell nice for this. I'm sure the rest of them will.

My left leg bounces against the seat after I shift the car out of drive. I’ve never hung around the group of them together before. Not in a setting like this. And on top of being excited that I’m being included—getting that text from Beth this morning while I was on my way to the hospital—I’m also slightly nervous. I’m comfortable around Beth. And Mia is really sweet. But Tessa? If I’m being honest, she frightens me a little.

Yes, I've known her the longest. She used to hang around my house all the time when she and Reed were in high school together. I’d consider us friendly. But what if Tessa doesn’t want her best friend’s little sister horning in on her girl’s night? What if she asks me to leave?

I press my hand to my thigh and force my leg to quit bouncing. I can't think about this right now. I'm short on time as it is. I need to focus on getting ready. So I push those worrying thoughts aside and turn the car off, grab my book bag off the passenger seat, hustle out, and hurry up the driveway.

I can hear music playing when I step up onto the porch. A steady beat with a heavy bass. Twisting the doorknob, I push the door open and step inside the house.

The living room and kitchen are empty, but the TV is on. CJ is typically lounging on the couch when I get home, either watching something or getting creative in his boredom. Just the other day, he set up glasses all along the living room floor and flipped quarters into them. And I also caught him building a castle out of a deck of cards on the trunk he uses as a coffee table. It even had a drawbridge and a moat. I was impressed.

This is CJ’s go-to spot. But he’s not here.

What could he be doing?

I pad across the room and down the hallway, heading toward the music and the shower I need to be taking. CJ’s bedroom door is open, and curiosity has me stopping at it to take a look inside.

Just a peek, I think. I'll say hi, then I’ll hurry up and hop in the shower. A peek and a hi. That's it.

I stop at the doorway. My eyes widen as the hand around my book bag strap tightens into a fist.

Holy . . .

No way is this going to be a peek.

CJ is shirtless and facing the far wall, his sculpted back bulging as he hangs from a bar mounted to the ceiling. Knees bent. Arms extended. Body shiny with sweat. Jay Z raps through the speakers come and get me, and the man with more muscles than anyone else on the planet—I’m sure of it—proceeds to knock out a never ending round of pull ups as if they are nothing.

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