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“It might not make it go away, but it’ll sure as fuck help slow it down. Do you think Con and Victor aren’t already texting each other with ideas of how to fund research? Guarantee you they already have a team they’re building to start their own medical research.”
“Is this a Levi Marsh locker room pep talk?” I sneer.
“Yes,” he scowls back at me, “is this Volkov attitude to brush off the truth you aren’t ready to hear?”
I scoff and look out the window. “I didn’t realize I was signing up to be psychoanalyzed by a burnt-out athlete with his nose in my business on this drive home.”
“I didn’t realize you were as dumb as your brother when it comes to accepting help.”
We stare each other down for a minute until he breaks eye contact and pulls back onto the highway.
“You might actually out stubborn Con. At least when confronted with help, he finally accepted.”
“We’re different people, I guess,” I mutter as I turn to the window again.
The rest of the drive goes by in a somewhat tense silence. Every time I sneak glances at him out of the corner of my eye, his jaw is clenched so hard I’m surprised it isn’t broken yet. He pulls into the VI parking garage and stops in front of the elevator. He grabs my bag from the back and sets it on the ground.
“Ives and I are here for you, whenever or whatever you need. You need to lose your stupid pride though and let people who love you be there for you.” He traps me in a suffocating hug and kisses the top of my head.
“Thank you,” I say as I hug him back.
“Brat,” he says I turn to leave.
I give him my middle finger as I step onto the elevator, the doors closing on his laughter.
* * *
The confession tour continues tonight with Friday. I texted her when I got home and invited her over for a girls’ night. I’ve ordered tacos that she’s picking up, and I have three flavors of ice cream for dessert. Plus, vodka for me and tequila for her. Then we’ll kick back and watch Magic Mike. It’s not my favorite, but she loves it, and I’m going to be laying a lot on her tonight.
I really have no idea how she’ll react. I know she’ll be supportive. I just don’t know if she’ll be as hurt by me keeping everything to myself as everyone else or if she’ll understand. I’m setting everything up in the living room when she knocks on the door.
“I’ve got tacos, bitch! Open the damn door,” she yells.
“Hey,” I flip my newly added deadbolt to the side and open the door for her.
The scent of tacos fills my nostrils and makes my stomach growl. I guess I haven’t eaten since the reception last night. I haven’t even thought of food until now.
“Girl, do I have a story for you.” She starts opening the containers, handing me my order and keeping hers. “I went on a Tinder date last night. This clown wanted a standing ovation for making me come. Like, honey, I have had stronger orgasms from the seam of my jeans with a homeless man pressed against me on the J line in August. You are not special.”
“Gross,” I laugh at her disgusting anecdote.
“And, unfortunately, accurate.” She takes a bite of her taco. “How was the wedding?”
“It was beautiful. Super small and intimate. I knew most of the people there again. It was pretty close to a repeat of Con and Lilith’s wedding.”
“How about you and the ginger?”
“We’re over.”
She pauses from the bite of taco she was about to take. Her arms slowly lower. “What? Why?”
“Con found out.”
“So?” She rolls her eyes. “His grumpy ass can get over it. You were happy. You were getting good dick. Does your brother not understand how fucking rare that is in this city?”
“Griff and I weren’t ever going to be a long-term thing.”
“Why?” she asks before taking another bite.
