Page 19 of Royal Desire

“I have not,” I lie. “You forget who I am. There’s no reason for me to go to a bar when I rarely drink, and I sure don’t go out and drink. That’s a boundary I refuse to cross. There’s no Uber in this place. I’d have to call nine-one-one like the old ladies and beg you to deliver my ass home.”

I hear feet hit gravel in the background. “Look, if you need a night out, I’m here for you. I’m just putting it out there.”

“If I needed a night out, that would mean that I’m on the pathetic, cry-myself-to-sleep bus, which I am not. I’m fine. I’m more than fine. I’m fucking fantastic.”

Dean has always been able to carry on a conversation while running. “Whatever. Maybe I need a night out. You can cart my ass around, Mister I’m not still in love with Ruby Sinclair.”

“Did today look like love to you? I fell out of love a long time ago, asshole.”

All of a sudden, Dean’s feet pounding the gravel comes to a stop. I can’t tell if he’s laughing at me or about to hyperventilate. “Yeah, that’s what you said when you canceled your wedding on the night of the most epic bachelor party I worked fucking hard on. All your buddies from law school were living it up while we were stone cold sober and I acted as your therapist.”

“That wasn’t because of Ruby.” Again, a total fucking lie. I’d be married right now if it weren’t for the ghost of my first and only true love who haunts my heart. Carly might’ve loved me, but I never loved her. As much as I tried to talk myself into it, it just didn’t happen. I’m not even sure how I ended up as far along as I did, but I had to end it. The last I heard, she moved to Arizona. She’s better off without me. “And you saved me from a bad marriage, future divorce, and probably a broken family. Also, I’ve never had a therapist.”

Dean catches his breath, and I hear a door slam. He must be home. “If anyone could benefit from a therapist, it’s you. The proof is on Winslet Uncut. It’s been played”—the line goes silent for a moment—“one thousand, five hundred, and ninety-six times. I’m sure half of them are the Bible study group. They’re savage.”

“Great.”

“Wait—you just hit two thousand. That’s over a quarter of the population of Winslet.”

“I’ll let you monitor that on your own. Feel free to keep that shit to yourself,” I mutter.

“I’ve got to shower. I’ve got a table I’m working on unless you change your mind or there’s an emergency. Did you remember you’re on-call this weekend?”

I slam my laptop shut and flip the lights out on my way out of the office. I’ll be in here most of the day tomorrow researching and catching up. This is a one-horse town. We might have a police chief and five officers, but the fire department is volunteer, as are the medics. My life was just that depressing, that I agreed to the two-hundred-plus hours of training. But here I am, on call most of the time. “I remember. If there’s an emergency, I’m your man.”

“Since you refuse to hit The Bar, The Other Bar, or the manor, I hope I don’t see you all weekend.”

“Touché. And I don’t want to end up on Uncut again. No more drama from me,” I promise. “I’m back to my monotonous life.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Dean mutters. “Stay out of trouble and off the internet. I’m embarrassed for you.”

By the time we disconnect, I’m back in my room holding the same workout clothes I was going to wear last night when I decided to sneak into the manor to see Ruby for myself.

She’s singing again tonight. I looked it up online during a weak moment after lunch.

But I refuse to do it again. If this is my new normal, I will not subject myself to the torture of Ruby Sinclair.

Gym, cold plunge, sauna. I’ve spent every waking minute that I’m not working since I moved home to do everything the opposite of my parents.

My father is currently sitting in prison. Fucking finally. It only took hitting a tour bus near the coast in Seattle. He was there on business, but for my father, that meant binge drinking with his buddies while he was away and fucking his way through his female Rolodex. Luckily no one died, though that didn’t mean no one was hurt.

Each victim sued him individually. And every single person won big. That lawsuit ate through every insurance policy, all of his investments, and his cash. It drained him. The only reason they couldn’t touch the house was because it was in a trust with my name on it. Why he did that years ago, I have no idea.

He lost his wealth and couldn’t buy his way out of prison. He got the maximum sentence. By the time he’s eligible for parole, odds are in my favor that he could be dead.

I can only hope.

It sent my mother into a tailspin. I’m waiting on her to crash and burn so she’ll agree to finally go to treatment. I tried to force it the first few months I was back, but she fought me tooth and nail.

Speaking of, I go to look for her. She rarely comes to the kitchen and never to the dining room. Sadie delivers her meals to make sure she eats.

I make my way across the second floor to the primary suite that she rarely leaves. The door pushes open when I knock. I brace, because there’s never a moment I don’t wonder what I’ll find on the other side.

The king-size bed is a mess, clothes are littered all over the floor, and the lights are dim. The TV over the fireplace is set to some movie from the seventies, but the sound is so low, there’s no way she can hear it.

It’s depressing as fuck in here.

“Mom, you awake?”