She was a fucking vixen and she knew it. She loved torturing me, and I loved it. The only thing I loved more than her torturing me about being inside her was actually being inside her.
I was a masochist, without a doubt. At least when it came to Georgia.
I heaved a sigh and stood to try and walk off the excess energy. Charlie jumped up and gave his tail a wag.
“Outside, boy?” I gave him a scratch before opening the French doors to let him out. He ambled down the steps and turned the corner of the house. I walked back to the TV and turned it off, meaning to step outside to keep an eye on Charlie, until I heard Georgia’s voice.
She sounded sad and forlorn and I instantly knew why.
She was talking to Drew about the letter. Telling her what it meant. Her fears about reliving the past and that night when two strangers had broken into her house and robbed and murdered her parents, all while a twelve-year-old Georgia hid under her bed.
I clenched my jaw when I heard Kyle’s name. Why the fuck had Kyle been brought up?
Dammit, I loved living on the beach just as much as the next guy, but the constant roar of the waves made eavesdropping pretty fucking difficult. I found myself taking a step down the hallway with the intention of hearing better before I caught myself.
I couldn’t listen to this. This was a private conversation, and it hurt like hell that she was opening up to Drew and not to me, but I understood it. She’d hunkered off to our bedroom for a reason; she’d wanted privacy.
I ran a hand through my hair and gave a rough yank before turning around and heading out the door to keep an eye on Charlie.
I ran my hands along the wood grain of the deck railing and let my thoughts run wild. I didn’t know if Georgia would go back and make an appearance for the hearing, but if she did, she would be back in DC, and back with Kyle; the one person she’d always relied on to get her through this shit when it came up.
It’d been sixteen years, would she still fall into old habits? I had no doubt that Kyle would try and convince her to stay with him and use every manipulative tool at his disposal. While I certainly wanted to fight for her—she was worth it to me, she was worth everything—it was against my grain to fight for someone. If she didn’t want to be with me, I wasn’t going to lower myself so far as to beg her to stay. If Georgia was going to fall back into her old life, then so be it.
That thought terrified me more than anything else, but I knew it would be hard for her to stay. Every fucking day, I saw it on her face. The battle she waged between her old life and our new one. I held my breath every time her phone rang. Gritted my teeth when I saw Kyle’s name flash across the screen. Deep fucking down in my pain-ravaged heart, I was afraid this time would be the time he finally convinced her to go back, because deep fucking down I didn’t have faith she would stay.
I didn’t have faith she would break the mold for me, and I knew I wasn’t fucking worth it—knew my past was colored with poor decisions. That was a real kick to the gut; I didn't deserve her. I’d done so much I now regretted, I couldn’t be surprised when she finally came to her senses and walked away.
I ran another angry hand through my hair and called for Charlie. I needed a beer and to plop myself in front of some mindless TV show to get this endless cycle of negative thinking off my mind. Or maybe do some work. Gavin and I had a big account that needed some attention. The CEO was a bastard who wanted his hand held through the entire process.
Charlie trotted up the stairs and we headed back into the kitchen. I tossed him a treat and then padded down to the spare room I used as an office. I closed the door behind me and settled into my desk chair for a long night of throwing myself into the comfortable mundane-ness of codes and numbers.