His voice is downright feral. However, it’s no match for the dark, threatening glint in his eye.

I have to remind myself to breathe because if looks could kill, I’m positive I would no longer have a pulse.

“If you do this…we’re fucking done.”

I sharpen my gaze. “We were done the moment I walked in here and caught you flirting with that skank you’ve been fucking behind my back.” He tries to speak, but I yank my wrist out of his grip. “Enjoy the rest of your summer, asshole.”

I force myself to keep it together as I head for the bathroom.

“I have a proposition for you,” I tell Ranger as I lock the bathroom door behind me.

It’s safe to say he’s confused.

Especially when I take a small wad of cash out of my purse.

“What kind of proposition?”

“If you stay here with me for the next ten minutes and tell everyone in the bar you fucked me, I’ll give you three hundred dollars.”

He eyes me warily. “Why?”

“Because my demon happens to be the bartender who screwed some other woman behind my back and I’m not the kind of girl who takes that shit without making them suffer.”

He studies my face for a beat. I have no idea what he sees but it has his own face softening. “Honey I can promise you he’ll be suffering plenty for letting someone like you go.” He juts his chin at the cash in my hand. “Keep your money. I’ll help you out for free.”

I’m about to thank him for being so kind, but my phone vibrates with an incoming text.

Oakley: The woman you saw me with is the owner’s wife, and the old man at the bar is my boss and her husband. And yeah, sometimes Janet does get a little handsy, but I’ve never fucked her. I’d tell you not to jump to conclusions next time, but it doesn’t fucking matter because we’re over.

I feel the color drain from my face with every word I read. By the time I’m done, my stomach is coiled so tight it physically hurts.

As someone wise once said—if you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.

However, in my case, I didn’t win anything.

I lost everything.

“Don’t tell anyone anything,” I call out as I run out the bathroom door.

I quickly scan the bar, but there’s no sign of Oakley.

Swallowing my pride, I walk up to the woman he wasn’t flirting with before.

“Do you know where Oakley is?”

“You just missed him, sweetheart. He said he wasn’t feeling well and took off a few minutes ago.”

Shit.

I sprint out the door. Dread twists my guts when I don’t see his car in the parking lot.

A powerless feeling rises up my throat as I fish my phone out of my purse and bring it to my ear.

It goes straight to voicemail.

“No, no, no,” I mutter as I dial his number a second time.

He’s like grains of sand slipping through my fingers. And I have no one to blame but myself because I let my jealousy get the best of me and ruin what we had.

My heart does a painful flip when it goes straight to voicemail again.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the receiver.

So fucking sorry.

Chapter 45

Bianca

“You’re upset,” Oakley says when I open my door.

So much for trying to keep my expression neutral.

“Did you fuck her?”

My stomach knots. His silence is deafening.

I’m about to slam the door in his face, but he wedges his foot between it and the frame.

“Would it bother you if I did?”

My glare is glacial. “Fuck you.”

That answer has his lips curling into a smug smirk. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Irritation mixed with pain strikes. “Go away.”

He takes a step in my direction, causing my heart to go haywire. “We both know that’s not what you really want.” Another step. “Unless you’ve turned into a coward.”

I hate the way he always calls me on my shit. The way he forces me to face the things I’m not ready to face yet.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Indignation slices through the hard angles of his face. “You have a crutch, baby girl. A crutch you conveniently use whenever we get too close.”

I don’t even know what to think right now, only that his words are making my head spin…because there’s so much truth laced in them.

But I refuse to let him know that.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Yes, I do.” He leans in, his voice a penetrating rasp. “Because I know you, Bianca Covington.” He clasps my jaw in his hand. “We speak a secret language that no one else can understand, and we feel things for each other that don’t make sense to the rest of the world…just us.”

My heart pounds a steady tattoo against my ribs as I reach up and clutch his t-shirt, drawing him closer.

I hate that he’s right.

I hate that I have all these feelings for him, because my life would be way less complicated if I didn’t.

But mostly?

I hate that he has the ability to tear me wide open and break me…

Because I love him in a way I’ve never loved anyone else.

A way I never can love anyone else.

And I didn’t even need all my memories to come back in order to realize it.

I just needed him.

I can feel the tears falling down my cheeks as I peer up at him. “Did you fuck her?”

I have to know.

“I didn’t.” A dark note enters his voice. “But maybe I should have.”

His words are the equivalent of a slap.

My expression must give away how that statement makes me feel because he says, “Not that I owe you an explanation, but I met her at a meeting. I told her to come by because she said she was having a hard time and needed someone to talk to. I ordered us some takeout and we talked. That was it.”

I search his eyes for signs that he’s lying, but there aren’t any. “That was it?”

His expression softens the slightest bit, as if he knows how much this conversation hurts me. “Yes.”

Evidently, I jumped to conclusions about him hooking up with a woman…

Just like I did in the past.

The silence stretches out between us until the only sound in the room is my frantic heart beating.

“You said you needed to talk when you came to my apartment,” Oakley says after a few minutes have passed. “What’s up?”

Sadness blooms in my chest because I know what I’m about to tell him won’t be easy to hear.

I gesture to my bed. “You should sit down.”

He doesn’t.

“What’s going on?”

I draw in a deep breath, gathering the courage to tell him.

Writing a note is one thing, saying the words aloud is another.

“You remember how I told you my mom committed suicide?”

He nods solemnly.

“Well, I never told you this, but she was talking to someone on the phone beforehand. She was really upset, and she kept screaming things like she loved him and that he promised they’d get married and be together.”