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“Hey!”
“Ah!” Laney slams the door shut.
I smirk. “Did I scare you?”
Laney grabs onto the collar of her winter coat, her pale cheeks still wind-burnt from the January cold outside. “What the hell, Mason?”
“Don’t mind me. Just getting some beers.” I wave my empty bottle.
I circle the kitchen island, feeling Laney’s eyes on me asI go toward the cabinet that obscures the trash and recycling.
She doesn’t speak.
My heart pumps harder.
The bottle clatters into the recycling, only amplifying how goddamn quiet it is in here.
“Did you…have fun? With your friends?” I lean up against the counter.
“Yes.”
“Did you tell them I say hi?” I grin.
“You didn’t say hi, so no, I didn’t tell them.” Fact rather than criticism.
I sigh and cross my arms across my chest. I can feel her eyes fall to my forearms and count that as a little win, considering how the muscles contract underneath my sheaths of tattoos.
Had quite a few more done since she left me.
At first, they were armor. Now they feel like scars. Obvious ones.
One look at me, and people think I’m a bad boy. Tattoos and muscles, dark hair, and height.
Women just assume that’s all I am. Mr. Right Now. Never Mr. Right. For a while, I tried to take advantage of that in California. Have fun, get some action, not take anything too seriously.
It made it all ache more.
“Come on, Laney, don’t be like that.”
“Like what?”
“Mean to me.” I know she thinks I deserve it. But I don’t.
If only she’d listen to me.
Laney’s deep blue eyes soften.
There’s my beautiful girl.
I don’t have a right to call her mine anymore, but I wish I could.
“I’m not trying to be mean, Mason. I just don’t know how to be around you.”
“You think I know how to be around you?”
She shakes her head, a wave of blonde hair falling over her eyes. She tucks the wave behind her ear, and I can’t hide my smile.
It’s almost like she doesn’t know what to do with it.
