I switch my gaze back to Conway.
He shrugs. “You need help with dinner?”
“It’s fine. I was just going to make pasta real quick.”
He grins from ear to ear and rolls up his sleeves. I don’t think it’s me he’s smiling about. I think it’s the prospect of more food. “Put me to work, boss,” he says.
I tilt my head, eyeing him curiously. If something as simple as food can make him happy, then why doesn’t it do the same for Dylan?
Why can’t I make him happy?
We eat the pasta at the kitchen table after Conway clears it of all the other trash it was covered in. Leroy and Conway talk about the news they’d just seen. Dylan stares at his untouched plate. I stare at him. Then suddenly, he stands. “I’m going to bed,” he announces to no one in particular. He grabs another beer before he leaves, leaving me sitting with two people I know nothing about. I quickly finish my meal, tell them to leave everything and that I’ll take care of it in the morning.
Dylan’s already in bed, facing the wall when I enter the bedroom.
I go straight to the bathroom and turn on the shower. I spend as long in there as I did in the store and ignore the fact that he is now sitting on the edge of the bed watching me. And I avoid the thoughts running through my head—the million questions I’m too afraid to ask.
I step out when the water turns cold, reaching for the towel before I’m even fully out. I dry myself, my back turned to him. Watching him watch me would be too much, too intimate, and intimacy is the last—or maybe the only thing I want.
I can’t decide.
“Riley,” he says, his voice deep and demanding. I can feel him behind me, feel his heavy breaths on my neck.
Slowly, I turn to him, grasping my towel tighter.
I look into his eyes, look for a sign of what he’s feeling, what he’s wanting.
He gives nothing.
I move around him and stand in front of the mirror, forcing the tears away. “It’s good to see you’re getting on well with Bacon,” I murmur. “He really missed you while you were gone.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he barks.
I shut my eyes, searching for strength. Searching for calm.
“What do you want from me, Riley?” His voice is loud. So loud it echoes off the walls. He grasps my shoulders, my eyes snapping open at his harsh touch. He spins me around, forcing me to face him. He stares down at me and slowly, the scowl fades and his grip loosens along with his shoulders.
He licks his lips, his eyes on mine. I watch the rise and fall of his chest as his head dips, his nose brushing against mine and I release a sob I’d been holding since I walked into the room. “Is this what you want?” he whispers, his hands moving from my shoulders, down my side and to my waist. His touch is soft, giving me the calm I’d been dying for. He presses his lips, soft and wet against mine, catching my bottom lip between his. I melt into him, into his touch, into his arms, into the single moment of affection I’d been searching for. His lips part, his tongue sliding across mine as he pushes into me. His hands are on my neck now, holding me to him as he strokes my jaw with his thumb. “Is it?” he asks.
I tilt my head up, my mouth desperate for the kiss. “I want you,” I tell him, my palms flat on his bare chest, moving lower and lower. I finger the band of his boxers, his mouth hungry against mine. Then I reach beneath the fabric like I’d done so many times before. Only this time, it’s different.
He’s not turned on. Not even the slightest.
His muscles tense, his hands on my neck releasing me quickly.
My eyes snap open and land on his. Eyes locked—his with anger, mine with fear.
It is me.
“Fucking shit!” he yells.
“It’s not a big deal.” I try to calm him down. “It’s—I’m—you probably have a lot on your mind, baby.” I grasp his face, watching the anger ignite… from his eyes to the rest of his body.
“Fuck!” he shouts, raising his fist.
I cower, my eyes squeezing shut, right before a gust of air hits the side of my face and the sound of shattering glass fills my ears.
I gasp for breath, my tears instant.
Bacon barks.
The bedroom door opens, slamming against the wall behind it.
Dylan pushes my hands away just as Conway and Leroy appear in the bathroom doorway.
I grip my towel tight, my eyes wide and on the floor. My heart, my poor, erratically beating heart…
I cover my mouth, muffling my cry.
“Are you okay, Riley?” Conway says.
I look up at him… my entire body shaking with fear. “I’m fine,” I manage to get out. “It was just an accident.”
He nods before looking at Dylan. “Dude. Maybe—” He doesn’t get a chance to finish before Dylan storms out, roughly pushing him out of the way. He puts on pants and shoes and nothing else and a second later, a door slams shut and his truck roars to life. His tires screech, and what follows is a sound I’ve come to fear.
Silence.
All but for our heavy breaths, mixed in the tiny room.
“He’s been through a lot,” Leroy tries to reason.
“I just need to be alone.”
Conway pushes Leroy out of the room and away from me. “We’ll be out here if you need anything.”
After dressing quickly, I find tape in one of the kitchen drawers and use it to keep the broken pieces of the mirror in place. Then I clean up the mess on the bathroom counter and floor. When I get back out, Leroy and Conway are tidying the living room of the mess they’d made earlier. I find myself cleaning up after them. The living room, the kitchen, the guest bathroom, and the fridge because apparently cleaning is my replacement for drinking.