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All right, that doesn't make any sense.
I'm not an idiot. I get that this is my doing as much as hers. But that knowledge doesn't help with the ache in my gut or the pounding in my head.
I need a drink.
Or twelve.
How can I be pissed at her for using when I'm willing to let whiskey wash all this away?
The logic does nothing to soothe me. Or warm the ice around my heart. Or get the I hate her and the I need her halves of my brain to make up.
She should have told me. We both know that.
But then it shouldn't have mattered. Not this much. I meant it. I did want her exactly as she is. I did believe the past was the past.
But what if it wasn't the past?
What if she's still using? Or thinking about using?
Fuck. She could be high right now.
She could be as desperate to get out of her head as I am.
Ryan turns to me and nods. He motions to his suite. Let's talk.
Uh…
I'm not sure Ryan has ever wanted to talk to me.
Lecture me, yeah.
Deliver news, sure.
Go over some business shit, of course.
&nbs
p; But conversation about something other than work?
No. I'm getting ahead of myself. It might be about work. Maybe he's finally going to stop vetoing all potential new hires as not serious enough.
He moves to his suite. Shoots me a get the fuck over here now look.
All right. I take the bait. It can't be worse than the thoughts going around my head.
I join him.
He shakes his head, sending his wavy hair all over the place. "You're an asshole."
"That it?"
"You flung your girl's dirty laundry all over the room."
"She's not my girl anymore." I lean against the divider wall. "What's it to you?"
He shrugs.
"That's it?" Seriously, what the fuck?
