“The fuck, Cindy!” He jerks me off him. “Are you using again?”
My humiliation is complete.
What did I just do?
“No, I… No! I-I’m not. I—” I shake my head and cover my mouth with my hands.
He must see I’m mortified because he pulls me into his arms again and pats my back awkwardly.
It’s beyond uncomfortable.
This is—oh, God—this is awful.
I’m never going to live this down.
“I need to go back inside,” he rumbles, his voice flat.
He glances toward the windows where everyone got a prime view of my massive, humiliating fuckup.
Then, like that’s not enough, I blurt out an excuse of, “It’s only, I haven’t gotten laid in a long time—” My eyes grow wider as those words spill free.
It’s almost as if an alien has entered my body. I need to shut up, walk away.Anythingbut say that to him. What the hell is wrong with me?
“You’ll find someone, Cindy. You need to believe in yourself.”
He looks at my face as if trying to gauge if I’m high or not, which is insulting considering I said that I wasn’t. But clearly, I’m acting like I’m high. That’s how bad this situation is.
“I’m not on anything,” I snap, only then realizing that my face is wet. “God, I wish I were.”
I try wiping under my eyes, hoping it’s bisque and not tears. I’d rather drink Liquid Plumber right now than cry in front of Ryder—he’s had enough of my tears.
I’m too ashamed to look at him, but I feel him nod and walk away. Screw him.
Biting my lip, I peek up, only to see him shaking his head on the way back to the diner, as if he can’t believe what just went down either.
His disbelief amplifies my mortification, andthatis the last straw.
I’m in fucking crisis mode.
Reaching into my purse, I grab my just-in-case pill bottle. It’s a security thing. If I have them with me, I don’t take them. It’s ridiculous, but it works for me.
Except for today…
I dump two, screw it, three Valiums and four or five Percocets into my hand.
Done.
I’m done.
2
CADE
The secondshe reaches into her purse, I know something bad is going to go down.
Call it instinct or experience, but I’ve got three sisters, so I know they carry around a vault in those purses. And the frantic vibes polluting the air around Isabelle “Cindy” Davis tell me whatever she’s reaching for won’t be pretty.
I jumped out of my ride the second I watched that mess with the biker go down.