His to Steal

Ch. 20: The 'In'

Nicolai

At least when he kissed me...

Those six words have been playing on repeat in my mind for the past twenty-four hours, and I am becoming the worst version of myself as I descend into the deep, dark pit of obsession.

I can't believe that cretin kissed her. I mean, I can. After everything, I can.

I heard Dominique tell Sutton that day at the park that she thought Jason was in love with her, and she implied in the car that day that Kincaid was "taking care" of things...which I took as her being facetious to make a point, but what if I was wrong?

What if she's had something going on with him? And I just assumed she'd never do that because she always insisted he was just a "brother" to her?

To even think about it makes me want to fucking vomit. But I can think of nothing else. Questions constantly run through my head at rapid-fire speed.

When did he do it? Was it before I kissed her? After? Fuck, was it on the same day?

Was that the first time he'd done it? Did she kiss him back? Did she wrap her legs around his waist and press against him like she did with me? Was she wet for him?

That last thought has me bounding off the sofa and back to the refrigerator for another beer. I pop the cap on the countertop and down half the bottle in one swig, slamming it down so hard it nearly shatters.

"Fuck," I mutter, leaning back against the island in the center of the kitchen and taking a couple deep breaths.

The only bit of comfort I have is that her best friend seemed to be just as shocked by this news as I was. I would think if this were a regular occurrence, she'd know about it.

Right?

Right.

Unless she's been keeping him a secret just as she's clearly been keeping me one.

Shaking my head, I finish the beer and return to my spot on the sofa, sinking into the cushions and staring at the ceiling. Why do I have to be such an ass? Why didn't I just tell her why I left?

Of course I want her to see Kincaid for what he really is. I want her to know that he's not a good man. And not in the way that a lot of men in this world aren't "good men." Not in the "we're sort of morally grey" kind of way.

But in the "I'm a grown man who looks at his best friend's underage daughter like she's an adult" kind of way.

Because that's why I left. Well, that's what started it all. I saw Kincaid for who he truly was, and he didn't like that. What happened the day I called him on it set in motion one of the worst days of my life that would only lead to what has been the longest and loneliest three years.

And for fuck's sake, I could just tell her the entire story.

The problem is, she's been attached to Kincaid for nearly her whole life, and when I say even the smallest of negative things about him, she shuts down or we get in a fight. And it has always been that way.

She will never believe it. She'll just think I'm lying, trying to turn her against Jason. It's why I haven't really wanted to tell her since we've reunited; it had been too nice having her back in my life, even just for a couple days. I didn't want to fuck it up again.

But it seems like I managed to do that anyway.

I'm headed back into my room to crash and try to forget the last twenty-four hours ever happened when there's a light tap on my front door.