Stella couldn’t speak with his lips so close. She couldn’t see him, couldn’t see his eyes, didn’t know how to respond. “Pa—” she started.
“I’ll always be your person. You believe that, don’t you?” He was so close. He felt like comfort, like the calm she needed. He felt like home and she hated herself for it.
She nodded; she did believe him. In less than a second, Patrick had flipped her around and lifted her up on the counter, holding her legs around his waist. He used his right hand to pull her hair back, forcing her to expose her neck to him. She gasped again; she couldn’t wrap her brain around what was happening.
Patrick ran his tongue from her collarbone to her earlobe and Stella’s legs fell open around him, letting him get closer to her.
No. I can’t do this. “No. Patrick,” she gasped, “we can’t.”
His lips crushed against hers, silencing her protests. The second time his lips met hers he stared into her eyes. He separated himself from her and pulled his hoodie down her arms to puddle behind her. “I promise I’ll always be your best friend, El. I promise.” He crashed his mouth into hers again and released the ties on her bikini top at the same time. Her top fell away, revealing her hard nipples, and he used the pad of his tongue on both of them.
Stella was having difficulty breathing, thinking. Her body was betraying her mind; she loved George. George.
Patrick separated himself from her for a breath and took her bikini bottoms off, leaving Stella completely bared to him. He got down on his knees and all thoughts left her head.
Stella woke up with thoughts of the night before, of Patrick carrying her to the stairs without separating his mouth from hers. Their bodies tangled with each other all night and she was exhausted. Nausea woke her up, though, and she stumbled to the bathroom to throw up. Lowering her face to the faucet, she took a big drink of water and splashed some on her face as well. The evidence of their night was crumpled in the trashcan. She was shocked that Patrick had even had condoms.
Stella examined herself in the mirror, taking stock of herself, and saw what she always knew—she wasn’t good enough for George.
She’d had sex with her best friend when she loved George.
She’d had sex with her best friend’s ex-boyfriend.
Emotions crept up her body like spiders and made her close her eyes. Millie loved Patrick and Stella loved George, right? What have we done?
When she opened her eyes, Patrick was leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. “You look like your dog just died.” He cocked his head and smiled. “That does nothing for my ego, El.”
“What’re we doing?” Stella turned to look at him in all his beautiful naked glory; sleek, sinewy muscles etched in his chest and abs, skin tight and silken. His steely blue eyes pierced her.
“I’m not sure what you’re doing, but I’m doing what I always do, loving and protecting you. Now come on, let’s go back to bed.”
When she hesitated, he came to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her body so she knew what he wanted. He stared into her eyes in the mirror until she smiled weakly at him. He picked her up and carried her back to bed.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Not How I Thought
Everything hurt—her stomach, her brain, and especially her heart. Stella hadn’t made her mind up as to what she was doing yet, but she’d been clinging to Patrick like she was standing on the edge of a cliff and one motion could send her tumbling down. She finally allowed herself to really think about what’d happened to Jamie and wondered if she’d come back from this. Dunking herself in the freezing ocean helped her make her feel things other than pain. Patrick was making her feel things other than pain.
She felt like she’d been fighting for years and she was exhausted. She didn’t know if she could make it another round. Stella used up her last bit of fight trying to get the FBI to arrest Jamie; she didn’t know if she could face another bout of media attention plus criminal investigations and keep her shit together at the same time. She wondered what the end felt like—is this what the end feels like? Is this it? It was humbling knowing this might be it even though she wasn’t sure she wanted this to be the end. Every muscle in her body felt depleted, especially her heart.
Patrick sat next to her on the beach, staring out at the water as Cooper chased the seagulls, who taunted him by diving down at him and then flying up before he could reach them. Stella would usually smile at Cooper when he played with the gulls, but she didn’t know if she would ever smile again. Her emotions were all over the place; she was devastated from losing George and Jamie and possibly Patrick. She’d made him tell her they were okay over and over again, until she started to believe it. Patrick was her rock; she needed him. Something told her that they were meant to be together, but she wasn’t sure Patrick felt the same. He started this whole thing and he wasn’t fighting the connection, but, on the other hand, it was like he just wanted to get her out of his system. They’d always be friends, so maybe she could just forget about this and chalk it up to an emotional breakdown.
“So, I guess I really fucked everything up.” She shook her head, looking down at the sand.
“El, you’ll be okay.” Patrick laid back in the sand, propping himself up on his elbows, and took a sip of his beer.
“I didn’t know it would be like this…” she started. “He would’ve killed me.” She drew a circle in the sand. The wind blew her hair in her face and the reality of what happened washed over her.
“Yes, he would’ve,” Patrick confirmed and pushed her hair back.
“This was the only way,” she repeated, her fingers drawing a line through the circle.
Patrick took her hand in his and kissed her palm. “You know that it was.”
Stella squeezed her eyes tight; she could still see red. “I didn’t know it would be like this.” She craved the numbness she had when Jamie “died” the first time. She was raw this time; it was like pouring alcohol on open wounds. She was an open wound.
“We did what we needed to do to protect you.” Patrick’s sunglasses blocked his eyes so she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“Jesse’s still on board?” Stella asked, looking back at the water.
“Oh yeah, we went to a party together in Atlanta. I was all over Twitter and Facebook, partying with him.”
“Okay, good. I don’t want this on you. If shit goes down, I’ll take the blame.”
“El. He was forcing you to leave with him; no one will ever believe you were behind this.” Patrick sat up and dragged her to sit in between his legs, facing him. “This was the only way. You know that. You’ve got to handle your shit, El. You can’t fall apart on me. I did this for you.”
“I know.” Her voice broke off and buried itself in the sand. This was all her fault. Patrick and Jesse had done this for her; they had done this horrible, terrible, evil thing to protect her. She didn’t know if she could live with what they’d done; what she’d done. “Anyone see you at the airport?”
“No. Jesse had a change of clothes for me in someone’s car he borrowed and your dad drove me to the plane in Atlanta. The car I left at National was still there and no one was the wiser. When I finished, I flew back to Atlanta and your dad was waiting. Jesse’s plane just sat there and waited on me. It’d be awesome to be rich like that.”