CHAPTER 104 MATT

104

Matt

WHEN THE GIRL WHO looked a lot like Emily Pridham touched Matt's head, his vision flashed. He was back in his apartment, his body warm and drunk on the half-finished bottle of Jim Beam perched precariously on the kitchen counter next to Addie's half-naked body. He didn't remember her jeans coming off, but they were puddled there at his feet as she sat on the edge of the countertop, her bare legs wrapped around his waist, gripping him like a vise.

He was watching this scene as well as living it, no longer two separate Matts but one, both about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

"Fuck me right here, Matt. Right on the kitchen counter. Then tomorrow, or the day after, when you're cooking breakfast for Gabby, I want you to look at this spot and remember what we did. I want you to think about this …" Her hands found their way inside Matt's jeans; warm fingers wrapped around him and gently squeezed. "The next time you bed Gabby, when she's lying under you unmoving like some dead fish waiting for you to finish, I want you to remember all the things I used to do to you back in high school, all the things the other girls wouldn't, and think about one simple truth: I've had ten years to learn more." She leaned in close and flicked her tongue across the side of Matt's neck, her words hot at his ear. "Some might say I've perfected my craft. I know a dozen ways to make you come … a dozen ways to remind you she'll never be more than a placeholder. Her only purpose is to keep you warm for me. I'm okay being your girl on the side, your dirty little secret. You can fuck us both—just promise me one thing: when you're inside her, I want you to think of me. I want my name in your head."

Addie tugged his jeans and underwear down over his hips, and although Matt knew everything about this moment was wrong, he let her. He stepped out of his clothing and kicked it all aside as she brought the bottle of Jim Beam to his lips and held it as he took a long swig. She drank, too, and when she did, Matt's hands moved with a mind of their own. His fingers brushed down the buttons of her blouse and found their way inside the folds of the thin fabric to her flesh beneath. She was still drinking when he tore the blouse open, sending those buttons skittering across the hardwood floor. He didn't remember removing her bra—one moment it was there, then it wasn't, and his palms were cupping her breasts, tentatively brushing her nipples, and Addie moaned softly. "Make it hurt, Matt. You know I love it when you make it hurt."

She tugged the back of his hair, then ran her fingers down his spine, her sharp nails digging into the skin of his back with enough force to draw blood. He didn't care. He wanted more. Matt pulled her so close, so tight, it was like both their bodies became one, folded over and into each other until there was only a single being, and he pulled her tighter still. She guided him inside her even as he thrust, raising her hips to meet his, gripping him with her thighs. The gasp that escaped her lips was filled with a hunger, an animal-like sound that only fueled the heat between them, and they both began to rock, pressing into each other with a ferocity that grew with each moment until Matt felt himself spill out inside her, unable to hold back anymore.

When it was over, they remained there, holding each other in a stillness that was only matched by the intense movement only moments earlier. The guilt crashed into Matt like a thick wave, and although he knew he should let go, get dressed, get her out of his apartment, his life, another part of him was unwilling to do all that. He wanted to love Gabby, he did, he told himself that over and over again, but that didn't make it true, and while he equally wanted to hate Addie, wanted to push her away, he couldn't. Every inch of his being wanted her to stay no matter how wrong it might be.

Addie's face was nestled in the crook of his neck when she whispered, "I think you just put a baby in me, Mr. Maro."

It had all happened so fast, so intensely, the idea of protection hadn't entered Matt's mind. A slight ting of panic rolled through him, but quickly vanished, melted away. If he got her pregnant, so be it. Maybe that was what he needed. Maybe that was what he wanted.

Yes. That was—

The door to his apartment slammed behind him.

He hadn't heard it open, and he certainly hadn't heard Gabby come in but there she was, standing in the gloom, her face masked in shadows. She was holding her overnight bag, clutching it far too tight. And although she didn't speak, her breathing told him all he needed to know.

There was no surprise.

No shock.

There was only anger.

This seething that only grew more intense as she stood there, her gaze boring into them both.

Addie's limbs were still twisted around him when Gabby lunged. He was still caught up in Addie, and while he tried to pull away, he simply wasn't fast enough. Gabby crossed the small room and pulled a knife from the butcher block on the counter as she came toward them, did it with a movement that was fast, purposeful, and fueled by pure rage. The blade glistened in the thin light as she raised it high and whistled as it came down in a harsh arc.

Matt blinked.

Matt blinked and found himself back in the middle school gym, crouching on the floor with both Gabby and Addie kneeling beside him as the girl who looked like Emily Pridham released his head.

It only took one look around the room to realize the vision the girl had shared hadn't been with Matt alone but with everyone in the room, same as Keith Gayton moments earlier, same as Josh Tatum back out on the street—they'd all seen it. The look Stu Peterson gave the three of them said as much. What he told them next was like a nail: "Judgment claims you all. There are no innocents here."