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“What does that mean ‘you won’t tell’?”
“Is she here?”
When he took another step up, I took two.
“You saw my mom when she came in.”
“Not her. Your girlfriend.”
“My girlfriend? What the fuck are you talking about? You’re delirious. Let me get that for you.” He grabbed the water bottle and my bowl of food and squeezed past me.
“Hey!” I shouted after him, but by then, he was already in my bedroom. “You need to leave,” I said, motioning toward the doo
r.
“Nope. Not going anywhere until you agree to talk to me.”
“We have nothing to talk about. Not to mention if you stay up here, my brother is going to come looking for you. What reason will you give him for being in my bedroom?”
He stepped onto the threshold. “You’re right, but we need to talk.”
I shook my head. “We don’t.”
“Sloane, what happened—”
“First of all, lower your voice. And second, I’m more than happy to pretend like it was all a bad dream if that’s what you want.”
He rubbed his chest with one hand. “Wow. Was it really that bad? Is that why you took off? I’ve never had anyone—”
“Just shut up and go away,” I said, giving him a hard shove. It was far enough that I could close the door, but he stuck his hand out and stopped it. He came back inside and shut it behind him.
“Look, I’m sorry. Okay? You’re right. What we did never should’ve happened.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re willing to pretend it was a bad dream? Sounds like you said exactly that.”
When he sighed and looked up at me with those gorgeous green eyes, I wanted to fall into his arms and beg him to forgive me, not just for being a bitch to him now, but for racing out that day and blocking his calls since. But there was still the matter of the “woman in his life.”
“Why are you here? There’s nothing to talk about. If you’re afraid I’m going to tell someone and it’ll get back to her, don’t worry. My lips are sealed.”
“I don’t know—” Tackle went silent when we heard footsteps coming up the stairs. “Answer your fucking phone when I call you,” he half spat, half whispered before opening the door and stepping into the hallway.
“What’s going on?” I heard Knox ask.
“I helped Sloane bring some stuff up from downstairs.”
“How’s she feeling?”
“Not sure.” At first, I thought they’d walked away, but Tackle’s next words sounded like they came from right outside my door. “Except she’s really fucking grouchy.”
“Usually is when she’s sick. Takes after our mom.”
This time, I was sure I heard two sets of feet going downstairs.
7
Tackle
