Page 59 of Forgiving Utah

I flinch, despite all those accusations landing somewhere close to the truth, just maybe not the truth he assumes. Yes, I supplied drugs to Xed and Salem in exchange for sex, but it was more than that, at least for me. They wanted to get high—I just wanted them to stay. “You really think that’s who I am?”

Christian flicks ash from his smoke, shrugging stiffly. “You tell me. You’re the one sucking me off.”

God. Part of me wishes I could get high just to escape this shit.

“I did it because I wanted to. End of story.”

“Bullshit. Nobody just sucks dick because they want to.”

A snort leaves my throat. “I can assure you, they definitely do.”

We stare at each other in silence while he finishes his cigarette. A calculating look crosses his features when he leans down to put the smoke out on the asphalt. “Here.”

He digs into his pocket and pulls out a hundred-dollar bill. All I can do is blink at it as my brain tries to catch up.

“I…”

“Take it,” he says quietly. “It's from our tips tonight, anyway. Next time, just fucking ask. I don't wanna worry about you using again.”

Shame weakens my knees, but I take the money with trembling fingers. “I haven't so much as had a drink since you bailed me out of jail.”

“I know. Just don’t make me doubt it. And I want proof that you use that money for your phone.”

With that, he turns toward the door and heads inside, leaving me alone with the money. I let my head thump against the wall and gaze at the night sky as the cash weighs heavily in my hand.

Those dark thoughts start to creep inside.

Just once. One line. Christian won't know. I could buy an eighth and still have plenty left to get my phone turned on. It's been a while, anyway, and maybe now I could do it every so often without falling back down that rabbit hole⁠—

“Fuck,” I whisper, rubbing my eyes with my fists.

Kingston Blake's voice runs through my head again. “You're fucked if you don't take this seriously.”

I won't do this. I can't. It would be a slap in the face to everyone who's helped me out so far, and for what? A couple hours of bliss that'll end with my next drug test?

My probation officer said I'd likely be required to attend meetings as part of the plea deal. Maybe I should preemptively look some up. Maybe.

Shoving the cash into my pocket, I head back inside to finish my shift, feeling a little lighter than I was moments ago.

Here's your proof.

The next morning, I lean back and stare at my phone, wondering if the text will go through this time. All of the others over the last year didn't, but I changed my number so he has no excuse to ignore me now, even if he is out riding with Taylor.

A message comes through after a few seconds.

What'd you do with the rest of the money?

Grinding my teeth, I huff in irritation and send him a picture of the new boxer briefs I'm sporting, complete with a perfect imprint of my dick.

Now I don't need to cum in yours anymore.

His comment from yesterday has been playing in my mind all day, about how I didn't let him suck me off—as if he’d even want that. Christian might have experimented with me in Ohio during the tour, but that guy is at least ninety-nine percent straight. I think.

Having a guy suck your dick doesn't mean shit.

It takes him a while to respond, and I'm about halfway through researching rehabilitation programs when his message comes through.

Why the fuck are you in my bed? Get out.