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"Well, can't argue with that," I agreed, leaning back in the chair, taking a deep breath.
"So," Lissa said, dropping down the coffees, taking her chair. "You are in love with this woman, huh?"
"I never said that."
"And yet, you're not vehemently trying to deny it," Angie said.
"We were starting to think we'd never see this day," Lissa agreed. "But now that we have, we felt we needed to come in, tell you that you're being a complete and utter idiot, and figure out a way to fix this mess you've gotten yourself into."
'There's nothing to fix, Liss. "Her life is there. My life is here."
"Right. Because it is so impossible for one of you to move."
"My life is here. I liked it there, but my life is here. This is where I belong."
"Okay. But did you ever ask her if she would want to relocate?"
"Her brother was there. Her work. Her friends. Her life."
"See," Angie started. "That wasn't what I asked. Did you ask her?"
"No."
"Right. Because you, a man, know more about her feelings than she, the woman, does?" Lissa asked.
"This is not a sexist thing, Liss," Angie insisted. "This is more a 'our brother is an idiot' thing."
"True. That's very true. I knew it from the moment he was born. Just ask mom. I told her. Boys are stupid."
"And then tried to suffocate me with a garbage bag."
"Oh, don't be so dramatic. I wasn't trying to suffocate you. I was trying to throw you out. You know, so mom could start again and have another girl," she said, smiling. "But I stick by my first observation. Boys—or—in particular, this boy—are stupid. You're stupid."
"This is a great pep-talk. I'm glad you're here." I grumbled.
"Here, Westy boy," Jazzy said, bringing over a plate with a double chocolate muffin on it. "I figured you can use a treat. Did he do something bad, ladies?"
"He ghosted a girl he's in love with."
"He did, did he?" Jazzy asked, snatching the muffin out of my hand as I lifted it for a bite. "No muffins for you. And, yes, I know how that sounds," she added, taking the muffin back, tossing it in the garbage.
"We're going to turn all the women in this town against you," Angie declared. "And then your friend over there will be right. No muffin for you."
"You two seriously came all the way here to tell me I'm being an idiot?" I asked. "I think you could have done this with a phone call. You tend to do so at least twice a month."
"Mom wanted us to come and see for ourselves that you were in love with this girl."
"Christ. You told Mom?"
"Language," Lissa chided. "And, yes, we told Mom. You know she worries about you being alone."
"I live with a bunch of people."
"You know what she means."
"I think we can agree that your friends were right. You had strong feelings for this girl."
"And now it's over. And there's nothing you can do about it. So you wasted your time coming here."
"Oh, we're not done here."
"What else could you possibly have to do here?"
"Torture you a bit," Lissa suggested, looking at Angie for agreement.
"Torturing him sounds nice," she agreed, nodding.
As I sat there sipping on my coffee, listening to them list my many faults in the loving way only siblings were capable of, I was pretty fucking sure that facing up to them was going to be the hardest part of my week.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
Because a few days later, five feet of pissed-off woman—and her purse puppy—barged into the clubhouse.FOURTEENGusI woke up alone.
That wasn't that strange, really.
I knew the guys were likely brainstorming on finding the guys who'd taken me. And how to take them down.
My arm throbbed, making me wonder how the heck I was supposed to open the bottle of pills Seeley had gotten—prescribed—to him—open. Let alone let the puppy, Poppy, out.
"West!" I called, shameless.
I deserved a little waiting on.
At least for a couple of days.
Then I would stop being a pain in the ass. I knew how much Huck resented it when he had to take care of, and I quote, my 'demanding ass' for any length of time.
West seemed a shade more patient, but likely not by much. I figured there was a reason women often ended up in the care-taking professions in the world. We just tolerated the often unrewarding work with a little more grace.
I felt my stomach drop when it was Remy who moved into the doorway, holding a glass of orange juice, and carrying a leash.
Remy was the one they would send if they had some sort of bad news to give me.
"Is everyone okay?" I asked, feeling my stomach plummet, thinking the worst.
"Everyone is alright," he assured, handing me the orange juice, taking the medicine bottle, twisting off the top, getting me a pill.
