Oakley starts to say something, but I don’t give him the chance because the wave of pain that washes over me is so severe it threatens to break me into a million tiny little pieces.

I feel so stupid. So goddamn stupid.

Why wouldn’t Oakley be with another woman? It’s not like we’re together.

How could we be? I have a…

“You okay?” someone who sounds a lot like Stone says.

I was so out of it I didn’t even realize I walked up the stairs to his apartment.

“I—” I shake my head, unable to process anything except for the fact that Oakley’s in his apartment with some other girl doing God knows what.

“I’ve been trying to call you all day,” Stone says as he ushers me inside. “Where were you?”

It hurts so much I can barely breathe.

“With Sawyer and Dylan.”

He tips my chin, forcing me to look at him. “What’s going on? What happened?”

I don’t give him an answer.

I can’t.

Instead, I just go numb.

Because the thought of Oakley being with another girl…a girl who’s not me.

Feels like death by a thousand cuts.

I push Stone away when he tries to hug me. “I have to go.”

Chapter 44

Bianca

Past…

My heart’s in my throat as I make my way into the seedy bar.

Flipping my freshly blown-out hair over my shoulder, I open the door. Almost immediately the stale scent of smoke fills my nostrils.

Across the room, there’s a pool table and a dartboard set up on a wall. As if on cue, cheers erupt from a small group of what appears to be bikers playing a game of darts.

No one blinks an eye or asks for my ID as I saunter over to the nearly empty bar and take a seat.

It’s so dim in this place, I don’t notice Oakley right away, but the moment I see him pouring some old man a drink at the opposite end of the bar, my heart soars into overdrive.

Desperate to the bone, Hayley ended up telling Oakley that I texted her from his phone to meet up.

Needless to say, he was pissed.

Which is exactly why I’m here now.

I hate fighting with him.

But even more than that? I hate him thinking I betrayed him.

Therefore, I have to apologize and make things right between us.

I open my mouth to call him over, but some woman sidles up beside him.

She looks to be in her early forties with long blonde hair and legs for days. She has far too much makeup on her face and not enough clothing because her boobs—which I’m guessing are only perky because of the very obvious pushup bra she’s wearing—are popping out of her tank top and she’s in serious danger of giving everyone a free show.

The bitch is straight-up trashy looking…the kind of woman you’d end up bringing home when you’ve had one too many and you’re in desperate need of a cheap screw.

In other words, she’s exactly Oakley’s type.

I clench my fists so hard my nails leave indents in my palms as I watch her shamelessly flirt with him—draping her arm around his neck to pull him close while she whispers sweet nothings in his ear that makes him smile.

A knot of dread forms in my belly when her hand caresses his stomach and he makes no move to push her away.

By the looks of things and how comfortable they seem to be around each other, it’s clear they’ve fucked a few times already.

Tears prickle my eyes, but I force myself not to cry. Not here.

God, I feel so stupid. So fucking stupid.

I thought we were together. Hell, I thought we were a couple.

But that was foolish of me, because Oakley never once told me I was his girlfriend. He made it crystal clear when we started that we were just a fling and the end of summer would be the end of us.

I just didn’t want to believe it.

“Bad night?” a deep voice asks.

I turn my head as some guy—a biker—by the looks of his white t-shirt, leather vest, and jeans takes a seat on the bar stool beside me.

“You could say that,” I mutter.

I debate grabbing my purse and heading home, but then he utters, “You’re way too gorgeous to be upset, honey. Let me buy you a drink and take the sting out.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to turn him down…but then it occurs to me that two can play Oakley’s little game.

I might be the one coming out of our little fling heartbroken, but I’ll be dammed if I’m not going to give him a taste of his own medicine first.

I quickly appraise the guy. Closely cropped dark hair and warm brown eyes…short, scruffy beard. Looks to be in his late twenties, early thirties at most. He’s not as tall as Oakley, but not short either. Overall, his face isn’t bad to look at. Hell, he could even pass for good-looking in the right light.

He’ll do.

I give him a sweet smile. “Sure. I’ll take—”

“Nothing,” Oakley grunts as he glares at the man beside me. “Because she’s only eighteen.”

The guy’s eyes widen, but I lean into him and purr, “Eighteen’s still legal.”

The guy drops his gaze to my chest briefly before he smiles. “In that case, why don’t you get my new friend a soda?” He peels his gaze away from me and looks at Oakley. “I’ll take another beer.”

Oakley’s nostrils flare as he fills up his glass and for a moment I think he’s going to pour the beer over his head. “What the hell are you doing here, Bianca?”

Ignoring the sharp ache in my heart, I flash him some teeth. “I was in the neighborhood.”

Visibly confused, the guy looks between us. “Do you two know each other?”

Oakley’s eyes narrow into tiny slits as he hands me a glass of soda. “Yeah. She’s my—”

“Neighbor.” I run my fingernail along the rim of the glass and focus all my attention on the guy sitting next to me. “Oakley rents the guesthouse in our back yard from my father.”

The guy whistles. “Guesthouse, huh? Sounds fancy.”

“It is.” Slipping my foot out of my heel, I trail it up the length of his calf. “You should come see it. My dad’s out of town for work right now, so we’d have the whole place to ourselves.”

Intrigue flashes in his orbs. “Is that so?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Oakley’s jaw clench.

“My name is Bianca.” Holding out my hand, I sweep my tongue along my bottom lip. “And the name I’ll be calling out later is?”

The guy’s mouth nearly drops open as he takes my hand. “Ranger.” He leans in. “Are you always so forward?”

I take a long sip of my drink. “Only when I see something I want.” Biting my bottom lip, I add, “Now what do you say we quit all this small talk and go fuck in the bathroom?”

“Well, shit,” he mutters as he stands up. “I’m not sure what your demons are, honey, but I have no objection to you taking them out on me tonight.”

With that, he stalks toward the bathroom.

I’m about to join him, but Oakley’s hand wraps around my wrist. “Bianca.”