Free Skin (McCullough Mountain 2) by Lydia Michaels Page A

slowly. “What
happened at the bathrooms?”
    “I found them in the hall. He was leaning
over her like he was about to kiss her or just had.”
    His teeth clenched. “Did she look
angry?”
    Mallory’s lips tightened into a sympathetic
smile. “No.”
    He looked away. He was pissed, but not that
some guy was hitting on Erin. Strangely, he was pissed she’d made a
fool out of him. He really didn’t feel any sort of jealousy for her
when he pictured her with Tim. The two of them actually made sense
as a couple on some level. It was weird that he could admit that to
himself.
    “Are you mad I told you?”
    “What? No, of course not. You’re just being
honest and telling me what I asked.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “You didn’t do anything.”
    “But now you’re sad.”
    “Mallory, I’m not sad. I’m angry and curious
how long whatever they have going has been going on, but I’m not
really sad about it.”
    “Are you going to go back to her if she asks
you?”
    He sighed and pressed his head into the
wall, staring up at her ceiling. “I don’t know.”
    “Finn, she’s cheating on you!”
    “You don’t know that. You didn’t actually
see them kissing, right?”
    She scoffed and sat up. “No, but it was
obvious they’d kissed before.”
    He was silent for a while. Over the years it
had always been Erin. She’d become a fixture in his life he sort of
depended on to always be there. In the beginning he’d wanted to do
things one on one with her, but over time that urge sort of fell
away. They barely even had sex anymore and when they did it was
nothing to write home about.
    “Did you ever do something habitually even
though you knew it was bad for you each time you did it? You get so
used to doing it you don’t even really enjoy it anymore, but you
can’t stop for some reason.”
    She snorted and sat up. “Hello? I eat.”
    “That’s not the same—”
    “Of course it is. I don’t even really like
donuts, but if you put one in front of me it has about a thirty
second life expectancy.”
    He frowned. “Then why eat it?”
    She shrugged. “Because I know I shouldn’t
and knowing that tells me I may never have one again so I better
take it before the offer’s off the table.”
    “That doesn’t make any sense.”
    “I know. Neither does dating someone you
don’t enjoy when you can do a hell of a lot better.”
    He shifted. His ass was going numb. “Do you
think you’re going to puke anymore?”
    “No. But hey, I gave back my pizza so that
means we can eat the rest of it.”
    He frowned. “That’s not funny, Philly. I
better not find you messing around with that shit. Bulimia can kill
a person. You’re smarter than that. ”
    She drew back and scowled at him. “I don’t
make myself vomit, Finnegan. I’m not thirteen anymore.”
    Her answer should have reassured him, but it
didn’t. It only told him that once she’d been desperate enough to
try something as dumb as purging.
    He stood and held out a hand. “Come on,
let’s get you to bed.”
    “I’ll be there in a minute. I gotta brush my
teeth and pee.”
    He stepped out and shut the door. As he
waited he looked at the pictures scattered throughout her
apartment. There was one with three other people he assumed were
her family. Her sister looked nothing like her. She was tall and
all sharp edges, while Mallory was small and soft. She had a smile
that was contagious.
    The toilet flushed and the sink turned on.
He replaced the picture and turned as the door opened.
    “You are so lucky we’re just friends. I look
like death.”
    He smiled. She didn’t look like death. She
looked cute. Her hair was twisted up in one of those sexy, sloppy
knot styles girls did and her face was scrubbed clean of all traces
of makeup. She smelled like floral soap and mint.
    “I’m going to change into pajamas. I’m not
really tired anymore. You want to finish our movie?”
    “Sure.”
    She was still intoxicated, he noted, when
she tripped over the lip