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“I did okay without you, babe. It ain’t my fault you don’t love me,” he drawls, pouring himself another drink with shaking hands.
“Yeah, I see,” I say, suppressing a groan and ignoring what I want to tell him. That I still love the parts of him that he needs to find again. “Pour yourself another drink, asshole. Tell me, how long is the drive from here to Venice Beach again?”
“Snobbish much?” he jokes. “You picked out the house. Tennessee dirt rich my ass.”
“That is your line, and you were recording the damn record with Regulator in Los Angeles. I wasn’t about to spend months in a hotel room,” I say, trying to hide my smile while he pours himself a glass of whiskey. I snatch it from him and throw the drink back. The alcohol burns my throat and I cough.
He grins. “You’re here. It’s not my mind playing tricks?”
“Shut up,” I tell him, but I laugh anyway. This always happens between us. We fight, we laugh, and we make up.
This time is going to be the last; I’m done.
He drags his thumb across his bottom lip, glancing at me sideways.
“What?”
“Why are you here, Alice? Except to make me see what I’m missing every single day? You can’t hide your lying eyes, no matter how hard you try.”
I bite on the inside of my cheek. “Do not quote the Eagles.”
He rolls his eyes in response. “The last time we chatted, you made it perfectly clear what you thought of me.” He glances at my hands and smiles.
I quickly cover my ring finger with my other hand, trying to hide the wedding band I still wear. “I know what I said—”
“Save it, Allie.” He cuts me off as he stands, swaying from left to right, before putting on another record. Alice in Chains, judging by the first chords. He brushes both his hands through his hair and then over his stubble. Although he looks like shit, he is still just as handsome. Those black skinny jeans make my mouth water.
He leans back against the mantel, crossing his arms. His steely gaze is directed at me, his hair falling in front of his eyes. “You told me you couldn’t love me because it hurt. What the fuck are you doing here? I know you are going back to Nashville to work with Jack.”
“Who told you that?”
“Well the guys are still my best friends. And Gunner can’t keep his mouth shut when it comes to his twin sister. Prison didn’t change a thing.” He pauses, having trouble standing straight.
Still, it calms me when I focus on the rise and fall of his chest.
“Gunner told me you went to see him in prison.” My voice is soft as I look into his eyes.
He nods. “The guys and I all take turns visiting him. And I know you fly back every month to see him.”
“You knew that?” I whisper, feeling myself choking up.
“Al, of course I knew. I didn’t stop caring.” He shuts his mouth.
I stand before walking over to him and pressing my finger into his chest. “You mean to say like I did.”
“Well, you were the one who walked out. Guess you do always get what you want. I knew I was going to get you from the moment you shook my hand. I was going to fuck you one way or the other.”
“Fuck you, Navarone,” I gasp.
“Yeah, same here, babe,” he grunts, looking down at me through those thick black lashes.
“I’m not your babe,” I grit out.
“Oh no?” he asks, his voice deep and husky when he grabs my hand before turning my palm. “Why are you still wearing my ring then?”
I try to pull my hand away but he keeps holding on. “Let go,” I spit out.
“You want a last send-off fuck before you find someone else in Nashville? Some country asshole who’s afraid to fuck you hard because you might break in two?” he husks out.
