Unforgivable Read online

  Mick, breathing hard, a little wild-eyed, ran a hand through his hair and whirled on her. “Then what the hell is going on with you?”

  “You. You’re what’s going on with me.” The words popped out of her before she could stop them, but once they were out, she didn’t even want to take them back.

  Mick visibly deflated. “. . . What? What are you talking about?”

  “This isn’t working, Mick.”

  There. She’d said it. Out loud, to him, no taking it back. Just as she’d hopped on a train months ago at Bernie’s house, now Alice was once more taking a ride. Only this time it was no slow-moving locomotive but the bullet train, no stops. Only one destination.

  End of the line.

  “I don’t understand,” he said.

  Alice swallowed hard and shook her head. “Some things just don’t work. Us. This. Second chances. Things don’t change—”

  “Everything’s changed.” He threw out his hands, then curled them into helpless fists. “I answer your calls and your texts. I’m there for you when you need me, I would never leave you sitting the way I did that other time. And I never blamed you for hating me over that, Alice, believe me, I know what an asshole I was, but even murder has a statute of limitations. How much more do I have to prove to you that things are different?”

  “But they’re not,” Alice said, voice hard. “Not really.”

  “How can you say that? I’ve done everything for you. Everything.” To her horror, his breath hitched. Mick sank into a kitchen chair and put his head in his hands for a second before giving her a look of naked confusion. “What more do you need from me?”

  She blinked at him, not sure if she should be furious or desperate or numb. “What do you mean, everything?”

  “I try to take care of you,” Mick said in a low voice. “The best way I can. Obviously, it’s not enough for you, and if that’s the case, I don’t know what more I can do.”

  She thought of coffee made the way she liked it. Of the closet door he’d fixed. Faucet he’d repaired. Tires, rotated. Alice forced away a sob, thinking of the myriad ways Mick had taken care of her. Of all the things he’d done . . . but all the things he’d never said.

  Before she could say anything, Mick stood. “I showed up at your door and told you that I love you and I want to be with you, that I’d do anything to prove it—”

  Finally, at this, she lost it. “Love me? You showed up at my door, all right, but you didn’t say you loved me. You said you wanted me. ‘I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any woman, Alice.’ That’s what you said. And whenever I asked you about us, you said . . . you said it was fun. Over and over again, just fun.” Her breath hitched and choked. “So you’re going to blame me for thinking that meant you just wanted to fuck me?”

  “I love you!” Mick’s shout echoed through the kitchen. He took a step toward her, eyes blazing, fists clenched. “I might only have said I wanted you, but I meant I love you!”

  “On some level, right?” Alice sneered. Furious. Broken yet again by his words. She put the glass carefully in the sink even though she wanted very much to shatter it on the floor at his feet. To cut him the way he’d cut her.

  “No, Alice. Not on some level. I love you.” Mick shook his head and stepped closer to take her by the upper arms.

  No longer shouting. No longer furious. Mick looked broken, too, and though she did not want to soften toward him, she did.

  “Then you should have told me that in the first place, instead of assuming I knew.” Her voice cracked, thick with tears.

  Mick winced. “I thought I did. I mean, I thought everything I did was enough so that you’d know.”

  “Well, it wasn’t. I don’t read minds.” Still angry, but now also aching, Alice shrugged out of his grasp. The sink behind her was too close for her to back up a step, so she went still, instead.

  “I’m sorry.” He didn’t touch her, but the way he moved told her that he wanted to.

  Alice looked him in the eyes. “You never said it. You never even wrote it. You said you wanted me, and I figured that would be enough. I figured it would be whatever it was. Just fun, the way you told me before. And I hoped . , , I mean, I wished, I wanted, but I couldn’t let myself believe it, Mick. I didn’t want to end up where I was ten years ago, curled up in a ball on the floor of my shower and sobbing my eyes out every night for the sake of wanting you. It was agony then, and it would be even more so, now.”

  “I never want to hurt you,” Mick told her. “Ever. I’m so sorry, Alice.”

  Hesitantly, he pulled her close until her cheek rested on his chest. Beneath her cheek, his heart thumped in the swift but steady rhythm that had become so agonizingly familiar to her all over again. And though she didn’t want to, Alice gave in to the comfort of Mick’s touch. His warmth. The slow stroke of his hand down her back. And finally, his kiss.

  “I love you,” Mick said against her mouth. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I’m sorry I made you think it wasn’t real, or it was only fun, or whatever it was. I’m an asshole. Forgive me.”

  She pushed away to look him in the eyes. “I love you, too.”

  “Forgive me,” he asked again.

  Did she have a choice? This man had been in her heart for a decade. He’d drained her dry, but he’d filled her up, too. She could live without him, if she had to, but there was no doubt in Alice’s mind that without her Mick, her life was an infinitely darker place.

  “Kiss me,” she told him. “And take me upstairs. And love me, Mick.”

  “I do,” he told her. “I might not always say it in the way you want me to, Alice, but I promise you, I’ll always mean it.”

  And that was enough, she thought as the press of his lips on hers took her breath away once more, the way it always did. Always would. Finally, this love was enough.

  Playlist

  I could write without music, but I’m so glad I don’t have to. Below is a partial playlist of the songs I listened to while writing Perfectly Reckless. Please support the artists by purchasing their music.

  * * *

  What Am I To You? — Norah Jones

  If You Want Me — One Less Reason

  From Can to Can’t — Corey Taylor, Dave Grohl, Rick Nielsen & Scott Reeder

  Last Love Song — ZZ Ward

  Bet U Wish U Had Me Back — Halestorm

  Pardon Me — Staind

  Mercy — Brett Young

  Without Me — Halsey

  Watch — Billie Eilish

  Hurt the One You Love

  excerpt

  She had no idea how stuff like that party worked, Simone would be the first to admit. Political wheelings and dealings. Currying favor. But one thing she did know was how to talk to people like they were important when they weren't, and like they were no big deal when they were. It had been her experience that a lot of people who were used to being ass-kissed kind of liked it when someone didn't treat them like they were made of spun sugar, ready to melt if you blew on them.

  "How come you hate parties?" she said in the cab Elliott had flagged for them. He'd said nothing to her in the past ten minutes while they waited for the ride.

  "Who says I hate parties?"

  "Barry."

  Elliott looked at her, finally. "Barry talks too much. I don't hate parties. I mostly just get bored, that's all. Everyone trying to impress everyone else. Like your friend from Louisiana."

  "I just met the guy tonight. He's hardly a friend."

  "He invited you to his party next time he's in town," Elliott said darkly.

  She let her hand rest on his knee, squeezing gently. "He invited both of us. Don't worry. I'll go with you. Even if you are sort of an intolerable date."

  Beneath her hand, the muscles went tight, bunching. He didn't take her hand and throw it off him, but there was no doubt from the look on his face that he was considering it. She took it away. She didn't need to chase.

  They said nothing else after that. When they pul