I’m still out of breath from our kiss when I move to the side and away from the wall, rubbing the back of my head where I slammed it against the metal. At my movement, both man and horse swivel to stare at me. One set of eyes filled with equine curiosity, unaware of what he interrupted, I’m sure, while the human set is slowly filling with regret.
I watch as Kade’s eyes, which not a minute ago had been fired up with lust and passion, slowly turn back to the steel blue color I’m used to, all the desire gone, leaving me out in the cold, confused. It’s like watching in slow motion as he realizes what he’s done—what we’ve done. Something it would seem I’m the only one not regretting.
The fact that I don’t regret kissing the man standing in front of me is something that scares me to my core. I shouldn’t miss his lips on mine, his hands caressing my skin. I should be appalled I enjoyed kissing someone like Kade, and not just because he’s been callous toward me for the last month, but also because he has a girlfriend. But I can’t find it in me to care, the kiss we shared felt too right.
But clearly, none of these feelings are reciprocated. Instead of saying anything, trying to bring us back on the same page where kissing is a real possibility, I wait for him to rip me to shreds with the words I know are coming.
“I—we shouldn’t have done this.” The hand that was caressing my breast is now running through his hair in a nervous gesture, messing up his hair even more than my hands did. “This was a mistake.” He carelessly gestures at me, driving the point home that the mistake he’s talking about is not necessarily the kiss, but definitely me.
You were a mistake.
A phrase I’ve heard many times throughout my life reverberates through my skull, and with each echo the wounds the words inflict grow deeper.
It shouldn’t hurt anymore, being discarded by everyone around me, but hearing Kade refer to me as a mistake breaks me more than I expected. All the feelings of belonging, of being where I’m supposed to be, shatter into a million pieces at my feet. Reminding me I don’t belong anywhere and probably never will.
All these emotions must have been clearly visible on my face because Kade’s face changes from the mask of indifference he put on after Lucifer interrupted us to one of confusion. “Montana…” he whispers my name in a soft voice, like he’s afraid anything else would shatter me completely.
He looks like he’s about to apologize, either for what he said or the kiss itself, or worse, justify how he’d never be able to see me as anything more than a spoiled society princess with no regard for anyone else.
And I can’t bear to hear either of those. “You’re right, Kade, we shouldn’t have done this,” I say, even though deep inside me saying those words hurts more than anything, because they’re a lie. “Let’s just forget this happened. No one has to know, especially Lauren.”
I avoid looking at him out of fear I’ll see relief that I’ll keep this secret. Instead, I start to walk around him, leaving as much space as possible between us so I can leave the barn and the memory of his kiss behind me.
“Montana, that’s not—” he starts, but I interrupt whatever excuse he was going to utter. “Take care of yourself, Kade.”
Chapter Eleven
I’m lying face down on my bed in my father’s house, contemplating where I went so incredibly wrong with my life. Focusing on every mistake I ever made up until the kiss I shared with Kade. I don’t normally feel regret; it’s as useful a feeling as self-pity. It won’t change anything. Of course, when I feel sad, I sometimes wish I could change certain things, but the one thing I’ll never wish hadn’t happened is that kiss. It felt too right.
It’s bad enough one of us clearly regrets what happened.
With a groan, I turn to my back and stare at the white ceiling, trying to divert my thoughts away from my past as well as Kade.
I can’t believe he kissed me only to tell me it was a mistake. Why would he kiss me in the first place? He’s the one with the girlfriend, the one who hates me for no reason.
“Ugh,” I growl, a guttural sound that speaks to just how aggravated I am at the situation and myself.
Not knowing what else to do, I pick up the phone and call Dakota, the one person I know I can tell anything to without being judged in return. I listen to the ringing while replaying the kiss over and over in my head, unable to help myself.
“Yo.” A voice with what sounds like a Texan accent says on the other end of the line, a male voice I don’t recognize.
“Uh…” I stammer, unsure if I called the right number, but a quick glance at the display shows I indeed called my best friend. “Is Dakota there?”
“Who wants to know?” the voice asks me back, and I can hear my best friend say something in the background, but I can’t make out what.
“Her best friend.”
“Montana?” he asks in excitement, like talking to me was something he’s been dying to do for a while now.
“Yes.” I have to work hard to hold the exasperation I feel back, since it has little to do with the guy on the phone and everything with the one kissing me only to tell me he regrets doing so. “And you are?”
“I’m Maverick. Dakota’s man.”
“Her what?” I can’t conceal the shock in my voice. She’s never mentioned she’s met someone, let alone someone called Maverick with a
