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The only way this would work was if we had sex because being alone with Ream … well resisting him would be painful. “I want to have sex.”
“No.”
“Ream that’s what there is between us now. We both know it.” There was more, at least there had been. I just didn’t know if it was possible to find that again. The thing was … hope was beginning to blossom.
“That’s where you’re wrong. We were friends first and we’re getting back to that.”
“I can’t just be friends with you.”
“We’ll see.”
“Ream.”
“Kat.”
I crossed my arms. Shit, he thought he could do this? Spend two days together and do nothing but what … talk? Ha. “Fine. You can have your weekend. No sex and no arguing.”
He chuckled. “Wasn’t asking, baby.”
Gah … I so wanted to smack that arrogant smirk off his face, but then I wanted to kiss it and crawl on his lap and …
How hard could this be? I wasn’t scared of much. He could be taking me bungee jumping and I’d be ecstatic. But I was apprehensive about the no arguing part, because … well, I was good at it.
I hoped he was taking us to a spa. Now that would be wicked, plus I could escape him by going into the ladies’ room anytime I wanted. God, we clashed all the time. There was a history of hurtful words and anger and I felt like all we had left was this sexual chemistry and the rest was gone. That wasn’t a foundation … that was quicksand.
“We’re incompatible. You know that right?” We may want one another, but it didn’t mean it could work.
“We’re not incompatible, Kat. We’ve just lost our way.”
“We’re arguing right now.”
“No. We’re discussing. And do you really want to go there? Because I have you in my car, no one knows where we’re going, and I confiscated your phone from your purse while you were kissing me.”
“Shit,” I grabbed my purse off the floor and started digging through it. No phone. “Why?”
“Because you’re so focused on making certain no one is looking after you that you think every time they are, there’s some underlying reason for it. You’re hiding your MS because you’re so goddamn scared everyone will think you’re weak, but, Kat, it’s backfiring. You’re weak because your real emotions are locked up so tight that you don’t let yourself do the one thing that you claim you’re doing—living.”
I snorted and tossed my purse on the floor. “You have no clue, Ream. No fucking clue. That’s so not true.”
“Did you cry over what that bastard did to you? He fuckin’ touched you, Kat. He cut your face and beat you. Did you ever cry?”
I stiffened. “What?”
“You heard me? I was in the hospital with you and not once did I see you cry. A guy fuckin’ did that to you and you didn’t cry. A week at the farm … not once did you break down. You control everything about your emotions. You don’t take one moment for yourself and let what you’re feeling in.” He looked over his shoulder as he changed lanes. “The only time I see you lose control is when you’re angry. Tell me, Kat, when you were diagnosed, did you cry?” Oh God. “Did you feel sorry for yourself for five minutes? My guess is you didn’t.”
“I cried when Emily came home.”
“That’s exactly it. You cried for her. But never for yourself.” He looked at me and I quickly looked out the side window. “I think it’s great you’re taking control over this disease, baby. But you still need to grieve. You need to tell the people that mean the most to you and stop trying to control what they will do if they knew.”
I remained silent. I couldn’t speak. I didn’t want to hear it.
“So my advice, don’t argue with me this weekend. If you do … then you’ll find out what being turned on and not having release is.”
Holy shit. “Are you kidding me? You can’t do that?”
He nodded. “Sure I can.”
Fuck, I didn’t like the sound of that. Double fudge brownie cookie-dough fuck. What a bastard. “I hate you.”
“We’ll see.”
I didn’t like the sound of that either.
***
Why did she always have to wait for me?
I was so sick of her pity. Of her constant need to be around me.
She was standing at the top of the stairs, and I wanted to push her down them. I hated that she knew where I went. It was almost like she was glad I was trapped there.
I hated that she tried to comfort me.
There was no comfort.
I didn’t want it.
I didn’t want anything. Not from anyone.
Something nudged my shoulder, and I pushed the offending disturber away with a flick of my wrist. I rubbed my head against the hard glass trying to get comfortable again when suddenly my glass pillow was taken away.
I opened my eyes and saw Ream standing outside the car, his hand on the door, his faded blue jeans snug against his muscular thighs, and damn he was too delicious to resist with a sleepy head.
“Let’s go, beautiful.”
I unclicked the seat belt and it snapped back in place. He had a black bag thrown over his shoulder, and I hoped like hell he had packed my comfy pajamas. The ones they’d taken me to the hospital in, I’d asked Matt to burn. He stepped aside as I slid out of the car and took in the surroundings.
Shit. It wasn’t a luxury spa. It wasn’t even a hotel. It was a tiny cottage surrounded by … I breathed in … pine trees. The car door slammed behind me, and then I heard the crunch of snapping twigs under his feet as he walked toward the cottage—better description: shack.
“Really, Ream? If you were trying to win me over, this certainly isn’t doing you any favors.” I stayed by the car afraid to leave the luxury.
“Get your ass moving, Kitkat.”
The three porch steps he stepped on creaked under his weight, and I imagined he’d fall right through them before the weekend was up. Why the hell would Ream bring me here? There was nothing quaint about the place. Shit, the place needed a coat of paint and … he better not have brought me here to paint.
