Page 122 of Changing Lanes

Paige maneuvers to her back, avoiding my stare completely.

“Just how you bleed after a bad nightmare. When you hit yourself?” Her eyes come back to mine. “It landed me in your bed a couple times, don’t you remember? I caught you doing it and tried to help.” She points at the door that I just replaced and I feel all the blood drain from my face.

Well, isn’t this just fucking peachy. The girl of my dreams—literally—who also moonlights as my personal dream catcher—also literally—was only in my room to watch me bust up my own goddamn nose, not because she felt drawn to me like I thought, how I’d hoped for, but out of pure pity. Because of some crazy need for pain I can’t control.

I’ve been pitied my entire life as the boy whose own mother didn’t want him, I don’t need it from her.

Just when I thought we were in the same place, seated at the same table, and now, now I find out she’s just getting through the restaurant door while I’ve already eaten all the fucking apps.

Eyeballing the time on my open laptop, I say, “Shouldn’t you be leaving?”

I watch the hurt as it mars her face but I’m too wrapped up in my own head to care. Here I thought I was going to have to reveal one of my darkest secrets to my girlfriend only to find out she was keeping one of her own. She never said a word, just kept her judgment to herself and let me think I was secure in my anonymity of being a basket case with Mommy issues.

Fucking deception, man, it’s a son of a bitch and I’m the son of the biggest bitch there is so that’s saying something.

Angie likes to think she has the worst mom but the truth is I’d pick aversion over indifference any day. At least with hatred there’s emotion motivating it, letting you know where you stand. With indifference, there’s just cold, empty space with disillusionment running absolutely rampant.

Without another word, I get up and slip on some shorts.

Fuck this.

Laughter echoing off the walls stops me in my tracks though.

“You inconceivable prick. I tell you I love you. You basically fuck it out of me.”

Spinning around, I find Paige rising from the bed in her birthday suit that I like to call my birthday suit any other time and I have to clench my fists, still, to keep from touching her.

“Then you have the audacity to get pissy because I saw you with a few bloody noses?” She steps up, putting her exposed chest just under mine. “Oh, I see. You only like the spotlight on you when it’s your doing.” My jaw flexes on instinct. “I never said anything because I thought you knew. Now that we’ve established you didn’t, think about it. I stopped you from hurting yourself because I cared. Because I care. Because I love you. And whether you like it or not, I’d do it again. In a heartbeat. And even if you won’t admit it right now because you’re scared, we both know you’d do the same for me.”

My shoulders relax a fraction seeing the honesty in her eyes. I want to believe her, I really do, but my entire life has been one letdown after another and I’ve become conditioned for disappointment. It’s damn near my natural habitat at this point. Paige was the one person, other than my chosen brothers, that I didn’t anticipate breaching those boundaries.

“I-”

What? I hate thinking that one more person saw the broken little boy I’m trying desperately not to be anymore?

It’s bad enough Marc and Coty know what they do but they’re family.

Then again, the bond I have with Paige feels just as strong, if not stronger, and all within a much shorter time frame. Definitely in a more intimate way.

What if I rushed into all this with only her issues in mind? When was I going to take care of my own shit? A shift in perspective and, poof, I’m healed? If only it were that easy.

But getting upset with Paige about my own closet full of dusty skeletons doesn’t feel right either. The only one that can face them before packing their ancient asses up for good is me. Regardless of Paige knowing about them or not, they’re still there, waiting to haunt me for eternity unless I get rid of them once and for all. Can I do that with her holding my hand or should I take on my demons alone, the way I always have?

“I need some time.”

Her emerald eyes barely visible through slits, she hums, “Hmm…do you know how long it should take you to pull your head out of your ass?”

Before I can get a quip of my own out, she raises to her toes and locks lips with me, stealing my breath for what might just be the last time. I don’t know.

With a gentle push, she’s gone, walking out my door and maybe, just maybe out of my life, too.

She’s not going out of this room like that though, is she? I think the fuck not.

My hand meets air as she saunters across the hall and into her room, still very much naked and still very much testing every last bit of my patience. Framing the doorjamb with my hands, I watch Paige through heavy lids, fighting every molecule in my body to snatch her ass back here. I pray Marc isn’t home. If he is…

“Four seconds.” Paige’s words bring me back to the topic at hand, or better yet ass, mine more specifically, with my head apparently lodged deep inside. “Four seconds, one kiss, and you should fucking know, Beckett. I didn’t do anything other than help protect you from your biggest enemy which is you. And I’d knock down a thousand more doors to get to you again. Don’t let this be the one that keeps me from making it in. If you want to run because shit got real, then run. Do what you think you need to do. But know this, Beckett Meyers,” a gravity I usually give into, but am battling like hell now spills from her eyes as she says, “I’m fast, too.” Just before she slams her door shut, she calls out, “maybe even faster,” making my fingers dig into the wood trim.

First off—hell.