“What secret—”
“Kiara told me you were in foster care.” Her voice is clipped. Her eyes, framed by lovely long lashes, take on a hurt edge. “That she and her dad took you in. You didn’t think that might be something I’d like to know?”
Her words hit me like a slap. As they sink in, it feels as though I’m leaving my body, viewing the scene from somewhere else. “It’s not—it’s no one’s business.”
“I thought we were friends!” The moment stretches out impossibly, painfully. I could laugh, it’s so absurd. Friends. Friends fucking each other on the floor. Friends demanding things of each other that we have no right to know.
I curl a hand around the generous curve of her hip. It’s torture to slide out of her while I’m still stiff. “My past has nothing to do with this.”
“It has everything to do with this, and you know it. No wonder you’re so worried about screwing up; you’re grieving the closest thing you had to—”
“Stop,” I interject swiftly.
She sits up, blonde waves tumbling in every direction, her breasts swaying tantalizingly. Part of me wants to shake her, and yet a greater part aches to finish what we started. My mind spins as I gather my clothes.
“What are you doing?”
I stalk to the bedroom. I finish myself off in a matter of seconds, my mind cruelly, eagerly, offering up images of Poppy arching against me, her fingers in my hair. Once I’m set to rights, I shove my feet into boots and grab my keys. Poppy’s still on the floor, but she’s wrapped in a blanket now, a sullen angel with all that streaming spun-gold hair.
I grab my keys. “I’m going out.”
“Are you serious? Jack.”
“Don’t mistake sex for intimacy, Princess.”
My heart is beating so hard, it’s nearly painful. She looks small on the floor, and sad, and I hate myself as I climb the stairs to the deck.
Chapter 31
No Substitutions
Jack
I arrive at Sal’s house in record time. The short ride here, my thoughts chased each other in misery, torn between the well of grief in my chest and the guilt of leaving Poppy alone on the houseboat. I stride to the door, pounding on it. The porch light comes to life, but the windows remain dark.
Poppy’s stricken face won’t leave my mind. I know I shouldn’t be mad at her; hell, I shouldn’t feel that way about Kiara, either, but blood won’t stop rushing in my ears.
“Jack? What are you doing?”
I whip my head around. Chester just pulled up in his truck. He’s leaning out the window, concern on his features. The passenger door opens. Kiara hurries in my direction. In the light coming from the porch, I see she’s wearing a strappy green dress, her hair piled atop her head in curls. She’s in heels, too, which stops me in my tracks momentarily.
“Why are you dressed like that?”
“Did something happen?” Kiara joins me on the porch, Chester not far behind. Her gaze darts over me, as if cataloguing for injury. “Is it the restaurant?”
“You told Poppy I was in foster care?”
Kiara winces. “I assumed you’d have mentioned it to her by now.”
“Why don’t we go inside?” Chester says.
I finally spare him a look. He’s in a pair of dark wash jeans and a button down, and I can smell the cologne on his skin. “What was this, a date? Are you fucking serious?”
“Inside,” Chester says again, firmly. Kiara passes him the keys; he unlocks the door and yanks me over the threshold.
I wrench away from him. “You didn’t think to mention to me that you finally asked out Ki?”
“It isn’t your business,” Kiara snaps.
