The urge won. Furious, I strode to her door and tried the handle. Locked.
“Fuck you!” I heard her cry from inside. “Go away!”
Back in the truck, I threw it in reverse and tore out of there, tires spinning.
• • •
When I got home, it was after midnight. I went straight up to the loft, where her scent still lingered. After undressing, I lay on my stomach atop the sheets where she’d offered herself up to me, no questions asked. I closed my eyes and she appeared…sultry and brazen as she straddled me in the truck, shivering and sweet as she lay with me in the hammock, hotter than fuck sprawled under me in my bed.
Hurt and angry on the ride home.
Groaning, I punched the pillow twice and flipped over onto my back, staring at the sloping ceiling as my thoughts turned resentful.
Did she really think I’d used her just for sex? How could she, when I’d confessed to her how I used to feel about her ten years ago? When I’d told her today I wanted to let her in but needed time? Did she think I hadn’t meant the things I’d said?
It was just like a woman to say she understood about needing to give a guy time and then demand to know his feelings at every turn. What the fuck did she expect from me? I’d told her before things even got physical with us that I was bad at relationships and not interested in one. What else was there to tell her? If she didn’t want to hang out anymore, fine. Good. I didn’t need her. I didn’t need anyone. Better to be alone than a constant disappointment to someone.
At least she thought I was a great fuck.
“Wow. You look kind of rough. Late night?” Natalie’s brows lifted suggestively.
“Sort of.” Listlessly, I stacked coffee cups behind the counter. I’d hardly slept, and I was so tired when my alarm went off I’d nearly called in sick.
“Did you have fun?” Natalie prompted, loading muffins into the display case.
“Yes.” I sighed. “And then no. I need coffee.”
“Help yourself.” She nodded toward the pot. “Why no?”
As we went through the morning routine, I filled her in on what I’d learned about Sebastian over the last couple days—his OCD, his fear of harming people, his past, his cabin, his family, his aversion to relationships, his former crush on me…everything I knew. I even told her about snooping in his notebook.
She gasped. “What? That’s awful! I can’t believe you did that!”
I grimaced. “I know. I shouldn’t have. But I was so curious about him, and he wouldn’t talk to me! He still won’t.”
She looked confused. “What do you mean? You just told me a crap ton of info about him. Didn’t he tell you all that?”
My chin slid forward. “Well, yeah, he tells me that kind of stuff. But he doesn’t—” I stopped. He did talk to me, it wasn’t that so much. “OK, it’s not that he won’t talk, it’s that he will, and he says these sweet, crazy things, and then stuff happens, and he freaks out and turns into an asshole. He’s too hot and cold.”
“What kind of stuff happens?” she asked, her eyebrows lifting.
I sighed. Of course she focused on that part. “Sex stuff.”
She gasped. “You had sex?”
“Yeah. And it was amazing,” I said sadly. “Best I’ve ever had.”
“Wow.” The first customers were starting to arrive, so we had to get to work, but we agreed to go for a drink that night to talk, and I texted Jillian to join us too.
All morning and afternoon, I mulled over what had happened, and by the time we closed the shop I had to admit there’d been a lot more good moments than bad last night. Had I jumped down his throat too quickly? All he’d done was suggest driving me home.
But no. No.
I could tell that something was different with him after that last time in his room. I didn’t really think he’d used me for sex—I’d only said that to hurt him. But something had happened to make him close off by the end of the night. The guy who’d driven me home was not the same guy I’d lain in the hammock with.
So who was it? And how could I get the other one back?
• • •
After we closed, I went home and took a long nap. When I woke up, I felt more rested but had no better understanding of Sebastian’s motives for shutting me out. Maybe my sisters would have some insight.
We met at Trattoria Stella at seven and sat at the bar, Jillian flanking me on one side and Nat on the other.
“So what’s new?” Jillian shrugged out of her jacket. She looked professional and mature in her dress trousers, pumps, and sleeveless silk blouse, and I immediately felt childish next to her in my ripped jeans and sandals.
Quit being stupid. It’s not about clothing.
“Skylar had amazing sex last night,” Natalie announced breathlessly, leaning forward with her elbows on the bar. “And she’s gonna tell us about it.”
“Amazing sex. What’s that like?” Jillian asked wistfully, picking up the wine list.
“I wouldn’t know either,” Natalie replied.
“Why?” I looked at her. “The text messages?”
Natalie shrugged, her mouth in a grim line. “He says those are nothing. We’re just in a dry spell, I guess.”
“Everything seemed fine at dinner last night,” Jillian offered, “and speaking of dinner.” She elbowed me. “I take it the amazing sex was with Sebastian, the guy you brought to Mom and Dad’s?”
I nodded glumly.
“You don’t look too happy about it.” Jillian tilted her head. “What’s up?”
We ordered wine and some appetizers, and while we nibbled and sipped, I spilled to Jillian the story I’d told Natalie this afternoon.
“OCD is really rough. I’ve got a few patients with it.” Jillian swirled the last ounce of chardonnay in her glass. “And you’re never really cured of it.”
“I know. He said the same.” I took a bite of calamari and didn’t even taste it. “But is it the OCD that’s making him so moody? One second he’s sweet and talkative and laughing, and the next he’s a total dickhead.”
Jilly shrugged. “It could be. Obsessive impulses can pop up at any time or they can be there all the time. If he’s struggling with something in his head, he might not be able to just ignore it and keep up the chatter. Maybe going silent is one of his strategies for dealing with the thoughts instead of trying to bury or avoid them.”
“Yeah.” I set my fork down, feeling full although I’d barely eaten. “Makes sense, I guess.”
“Did he say anything about the fiancée?” Natalie asked.
“Not much.” I didn’t feel like blabbing the details he’d told me about their breakup—in fact, I felt strangely protective of them.
“Maybe he’s not over her?” Jillian suggested.
“No, I don’t think it’s that.” Suddenly I just wanted to go home and get back in my bed.
“Maybe he’ll call you to say sorry,” Natalie said, her blue eyes wide and sympathetic.
“He doesn’t even have my number. And he already said sorry.” My throat felt tight, which made me angry. Why should I cry over him? “He just didn’t say anything else.”
“Well, what did you want him to say?” Jillian looked at me like I was a little crazy. “It was pretty much your first date, wasn’t it? Maybe you’re expecting too much.”
“Just forget it,” I snapped. “It obviously didn’t mean anything.” I felt bad that I was being so prickly when my sisters were only trying to help, but I was getting more depressed by the minute. Without the fun distraction of Sebastian on the horizon, I was right back where I started.
The day after I slept with Skylar, I had an appointment with Ken, which I wasn’t looking forward to. In fact, I nearly canceled it, but then I remembered how easy it was to backslide and justify when I got this way. I’d avoided therapy in the past because of something I didn’t want to face, but that had only made it—and everything else in my life—worse.