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The asshole never visited me in prison. Showed me where I stood in his life. I hate the fucker now.
The house is nice and cool. I asked Robin to come in a few days ago and get the air conditioning running. I sure as hell didn’t want to walk into a house full of stifling Texas heat.
My living room, dining room, kitchen, family room.
I hired a decorator and told her to do what she wanted. Some of the stuff hadn’t come in yet when I went to prison.
And now…
I hate it. Every bit of it.
The centerpiece of the living room is a sleek black lacquer coffee table, its smooth surface reflecting the ambient lighting. It sits on top of a shaggy white area rug. The sofa and loveseat are white leather, and two wingback chairs are black-and-white striped brocade.
This is no place for a dog to live. Hell, this is no place for a man to live.
Then again, who the fuck cares? It’s ugly shit, but I’ll deal. As soon as my dog ruins it, I’ll get new stuff.
I walk through the hallway off the family room all the way down to the end, where my master suite is located.
It’s a two-room suite, sitting area and bedroom, along with a large master bath and a large walk-in closet.
The décor in the bedroom is slightly better. I like the black and red striped comforter. Not crazy about all the black lacquer chest and headboard, though.
I shake my head. Who cares?
It’ll be great to sleep in an actual bed, black lacquer and all.
Ray wondered how I could sleep in that uncomfortable fold-out in her room. I’ve got news for her. It was a hell of a lot better than the mite-ridden cots we had inside. Tonight I’m going to sleep so fucking well, I may never want to wake up.
I leave the bedroom, open the doors to the other bedrooms. No furniture or anything. I never got around to them since no one was using them.
Outside, in my large fenced-in yard, is a swimming pool and hot tub and a large redwood deck with no furniture. The pool is full. Robin must have taken care of that as well.
I’ll have to thank her.
In fact, a swim sounds great.
I shed my clothes down to my boxer briefs, open the French doors, and step onto my deck. Damned heat burns the bottoms of my feet, so I head off the deck and to the pool deck. The pool is enclosed in screens, and I dive right in.
Several laps later, I simply float, staring up at the blue sky.
And wondering…how the hell am I going to give up Savannah Gallo?
25
SAVANNAH
Sunday evening, Gert and Jordan drive back to the city.
“Thanks so much for letting us crash here.” Gert squeezes me in a hug.
“No problem.”
It really wasn’t. Jordan spent the last two nights at Giancarlo’s place, so I got my bed to myself and Gert took the couch.
“Yeah, we totally appreciate it, Sav.” From Jordan.
“Will you be coming back next weekend?” I ask. “To see Giancarlo?”
She blushes. “He’s coming to Austin, but Gert and I may be back anyway if Ash is still in the hospital.”
“Okay.” I smile. “You two better get on the road if you’re going to make it home before dark. Love you guys.”
“Love you too,” they both say.
I watch from the door as they cram into Jordan’s car and drive away.
Away from my little duplex. Away from Ashley. Away from Summer Creek.
Away.
And I’m here.
I’m here because this is my life now.
Funny that I’ve never told Gert, the bestie of my besties, the true reason why I left Austin. I don’t like to think about it, and it’s nothing new. I’ve never told Gert or anyone who my family is.
In fact, I don’t want to think about it now.
I want to see Falcon Bellamy.
I told him it was over, and he told me it wasn’t.
It has to be over.
Except I don’t want it to be over.
I want it to…
Hell, I don’t know what I want. Scratch that. I do know what I want. I want to be in Falcon’s bed. It doesn’t even have to be a bed. We haven’t used a bed yet—even though one was readily available in that vacant hospital room—and it’s been phenomenal. Better than anything else I’ve experienced, from the purest vanilla missionary style to the hottest fuck in the wilderness against an old oak tree.
Even better than the one time I truly let myself go and allowed someone to tie me up, blindfold me. It was an experiment, and I thought I’d hate it. In truth? I liked it. A lot.
But not as much as those quickies with Falcon Bellamy.
I grab my purse, shove my phone inside, get into my car, and drive to the hospital. Parking is worse than usual on a late Sunday afternoon. Strange.
