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“A good thing? You think having my sister find out I’ve been fucking her brother-in-law is a good thing?” A nervous laugh escapes while I back away from him. A flicker of guilt passes over his face.
“What is this?” This is far from where we started, and I lost myself somewhere along the way.
Adrian closes the distance between us in two strides.
“I havealwaysknown what this is.” He reaches for me but I pull away, and I can see the hurt in his eyes.
“How do you know?” I challenge, furrowing my brows at him.
“The problem here is that you refuse to acknowledge what we are. It’s not just fucking, Lake. It never was for me.” He shakes his head. “Youwanted casual.Youwanted no expectations,” he raises his voice, pointing at me in frustration.
“And you agreed to it!” I yell.
“I agreed,” a laugh escapes his lips, “because I just wantedyou.”
Adrian is the type of man to wear his emotions on his sleeve. That’s why he’s such a good musician; because he doesn’t hold back. The crowd gets to experience the music through him, and that’s what connects them.
I am not wired that way.
It is just one of the many differences between us.
Pedestrians passing by stare, and I’m too angry to care. That is until Taylor steps out of the bar and onto the sidewalk looking between the two of us. At least there’s a touch of remorse in her eyes, not realizing we were out here arguing over her.
“Jesus Christ,” I hiss, turning away from them both, running my fingers through my hair. I start to walk away when Adrian grabs onto my wrist. When I whirl around, the look on my face is enough to make him think twice. His fingers let go but his hand remains suspended in the air while I let my arm fall to my side.
Panic rips through me as fight or flight takes over.
I’m done fighting.
It’s so much easier to walk away.
That’s what I do.
24
MORAL COMPASS
Tell Me When It’s Over by Sheryl Crow and Chris Stapleton
“Honey, if you wanted a moral compass,” Georgie pauses dramatically with a forkful of French toast halfway to her mouth, “you picked the wrong gal.” She shoves the food in her mouth and washes it down with orange juice.
Holding up the glass and looking at me pointedly, she says, “You don’t even have the decency to take me to a place that has mimosas.”
Hiding my laughter behind the back of my hand, I motion with the other for the waitress to refill my coffee.
“I needed to be sober.” I take a sip, crossing my legs under the table as we sit on the patio ofBerdena’s. The morning is perfect, and the waterfront is teeming with joggers and people enjoying the cooler weather.
Georgie leans forward. “Honey, nobody needs to be sober when they find out you’ve been fucking their little brother.” She tilts her head innocently while demurely placing another forkful of French toast in her mouth.
“Fuck,” I mutter, palming my face. “I hate family. I just wish…” I stop, looking up at the sky as if some divine knowledge is going to strike me on the spot.
“You don’t mean that,” Georgie says. “You and Beth are sisters, and while I don’t know all the history, I do know you care about her very much. I mean who else would threaten her ex-husband to swim with the fishes?” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“I did not say that,” I laugh.
“Oh, Lake, I was being nice.” Georgie takes a sip of her orange juice, puckering her lips with distaste and setting it down before she finishes. “If memory serves, you told him you would cut off his dick and shove it up his ass during their divorce.”
“Well, I mean,” rolling my eyes, “he was being unnecessarily nasty.” Taking a sip of my coffee, I peer at Georgie through the steam, seeing her smile back at me.
