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I was gonna throw up.
“You okay in there, pet?” Colt knocked on the door.
“Fuck off,” I croaked. I slumped down on the floor with my mouthwash and flushed the toilet again.
How the hell had my life turned into such a gross soap opera?
“Good mornin’ to you too,” Colt chuckled. “Has he been up long?”
Reese answered. “According to Lucas, he’s had his head in the toilet since six.”
“Maybe if you hadn’t interfered with my life, I’d feel better!” I yelled hoarsely.
They both laughed. Assholes.
“Sweetheart, we’ve been forced to take part in this old song and dance for four years,” Reese told me through the door. “Sorry to say, but our dance card is full.”
“Good analogy,” Colt said.
“Thanks, man. I think so too.”
“What the fuck is a dance card?” I asked irritably. I watched Dancing with the Stars. I’d never heard of any dance cards.
“Are we that old?” Reese muttered.
I tuned them out, having no fucking desire to talk to them anyway. They were to blame for my anxiety this morning. Not so much the hangover, though I blamed them for that too. Somehow.
I groaned and scrubbed my hands over my face.
Shittiest night in years. I’d barely slept. I’d dozed a little, and Walker had kidnapped my senses whenever I’d drifted far enough.
“You’re canceling again, aren’t you?”
He sighed and looked at me wearily. “I’m dead on my feet, love. Can’t we stay in? We could order from that tapas place and—”
“But you promised.” It was impossible to keep the anger from my tone. I’d been looking forward to this party all month. “Reese is introducing us to Lucian tonight. He and Lucas think he’ll want to be involved in the new community.”
“I said I’d try,” Walker shot back, quickly running out of patience. “I have a splittin’ headache, and I’m not in the mood to—”
“You never fucking are anymore,” I snapped.
He stared at me. His jaw clenched.
Yeah, well, I was sick of his excuses.
Screw him, I was going by myself.
Maybe I preferred to be haunted by the good memories. At least they didn’t bury me in guilt because I’d learned way too late that I’d bitten his head off while he was on antidepressants.
On the other hand, the sweeter moments we’d shared made me miss him so goddamn much.
More than I already did all hours of the day.
“Good morning! Isn’t it a wonderful day?” Lane’s voice filtered through my bubble of misery.
He sounded upbeat. Good.
“Someone had a wonderful night,” Colt chuckled. “You two been in the water already?”
“Yeah, it was too good to resist,” Ty responded. “We got a nice swim, didn’t we?”
“Mmhmm, very nice. Is my boyfriend alive?”
No.
Figuring my time of hiding was up, I scrambled to my feet and started brushing my teeth. If I wanted Lane’s support today, I couldn’t avoid him. Thankfully, the rolling sickness had faded in my stomach, and it was mostly the headache and exhaustion that tormented me now.
Low murmurs from the living room made me assume they were clueing in Lane—possibly Ty too, if he didn’t already know—about all the changes. I didn’t even know half of them, but I did know the Carter triad wasn’t coming with us today. Colt and Lucas were ditching the drama and taking Kit on a scuba diving adventure in Key Largo. They wouldn’t be back till late tonight.
River and Reese claimed to be done with the Walker/Macklin shit, and yet…here they were. Orchestrating some big day of torture for us.
I was terrified to ask if Walker had confirmed that he was flying down here.
Not too long ago, I would’ve dismissed it. He was busy. Always working. But lately, he seemed insistent on reappearing in my life through unconventional channels. He probably knew I had him blocked on social and in my phone, so…hence buying my sweet ass in a charity auction. Thank fuck I got out of that one. And now this. We’d see if he showed up. And when.
Despite that he’d turned up on Colt’s doorstep just yesterday, it seemed unlikely Walker would jump on the first flight to Florida. Perhaps he would be here tomorrow or the day after. Not on such a short notice. Because the way I saw it, if he had just returned to DC—as in, moved back, permanently—then he must have a shitload of things to do. Where would he live? With Dean?
Gulp.
Dean better not tell Walker we’d slept together.
It’d been a mistake. A hot, messy, intoxicating, brutal mistake.
“Do you need more painkillers?” Lane asked.
“Urgh,” was my intelligent response. I wasn’t moving an inch. Right now, seated in the center of the couch, with Lane on one side and Shay on the other, it didn’t hurt too much. As long as I kept my eyes closed and Lane kept running his fingers through my hair.
We were just waiting for the Tops. They’d been speaking in hushed murmurs out on the patio since Colt and his two had left about ten minutes ago. Ty had stepped out temporarily too, to drop off Terra at a friend’s house—but he was back now. Said friend was gonna check in on the parrot as well.
