Did I hurt you?

Pressing my lips together, I tried to ignore the nugget of guilt that bloomed in my belly as I started down the hall. Reece had dealt with enough guilt. He didn’t need me adding to it. Once inside my bedroom, I stripped down, leaving my clothes remaining where they fell as my thoughts were circling around how I was going to break the news.

I had a sinking suspicion he wasn’t going to be happy with me.

But if I had known he thought something like that this entire time, I would’ve cleared it up long ago. Seriously. Me being butt sore over it was nowhere near as bad as him thinking he did something really bad.

Chewing on my lower lip, I padded across the room, passing the deep closet. The doors were open, and a cold draft wafted on the bare skin of my stomach, creating a wave of goose bumps on my flesh. The bad thing about the Victorian was the draftiness, even in the summer. Mr. Silver once told me that there were hidden passages in the house from back in the day, pathways under the staircases and hidden doors behind plastered-­up walls.

Come to think of it, the main staircase leading to the upstairs apartments abutted up to my bedroom.

Wheeling around, like a dork I quickly closed the closet doors. Pretty pointless considering I was buck naked, but I did it anyway.

As I got ready for work, I went right back to obsessing over the caring and sharing session I was going to have to have with Reece. Deep down I knew it wasn’t going to end well, and I shouldn’t care, but I did.

And I knew he was not only going to regret the night that never really happened, but once he realized I hadn’t told him the truth, he was also going to end up hating me.

Chapter 5

Mona’s was slammed Saturday night. With Jax already at Shepherd University in West Virginia with Calla, we were a man down when it came to the bar. Clyde was still out of commission due to doctor’s orders after suffering a heart attack last month. Sherwood, our part-­time cook, was running around like a madman.

We were so busy I barely caught the moment Nick slid his phone number scribbled on one of our new napkins to a girl in cut-­off jeans.

“Another one bites the dust,” I sang as I shimmied past him to grab two beers.

His eyes narrowed on me.

I giggled as I spun back, placing the bottles on the bar. The two guys waiting looked legit and normal, dressed in dark jeans and plain shirts, but I knew they didn’t run in the friendliest of circles. I’d seen them both with Mack, who’d worked for a guy in Philly named Isaiah, who everyone in and near the city knew to stay away from. Worked as in the past tense, because over the summer, Mack had ended up with a bullet to the head on a lonely back road. From what I gathered, he’d been the one messing with Calla, threatening her over what her mom had gotten into, and Isaiah hadn’t been too keen on the unwanted police attention being thrown his way.