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Shit, I’d read so much into it, and I knew better. I should’ve never slept with him. He was a lead guitarist in a rock band; that was enough of a fluorescent warning sign. But I thought I could just do sex and go back to being friends. And it may have worked if it hadn’t all blown up in my face.
I didn’t need a friend like that anyway. The problem was I was constantly thrown in Ream’s path and it was utterly pitiful. Because Ream had hurt me. He ran out on me the moment he didn’t like what he heard and then had the nerve to come back two days later to try and fix it … yeah, I didn’t do fix. I had no time in my life for mending anything, and second chances didn’t exist in my books.
Since then, we were constantly trying to hurt one another, and even if we had an entire army rebuilding the bridge between us, there wasn’t enough foundation to hold it.
“They’re here,” Georgie squealed then grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the front door. “Come on, buckle up. Make him wish he could taste that pussy tonight.” My nerves were going haywire and I couldn’t get away with hiding the fact that I was unsteady, so I stopped at the doorway and leaned against the frame. Georgie scoffed. “Chicken.” She made her brows do a happy dance. “I’m thinking Crisis might end my dry spell. A smart-assed, cocky cock between the legs—like yummy sour keys.”
I knew Crisis wouldn’t be stupid enough to fuck Georgie; that would be like going up to Deck and spitting in his face. Not happening unless you wanted to be beaten into the ground and live next to the slugs.
Dread hit me as the sound of gravel crunching beneath the weight of the sleek BMW grew louder. I felt like one of those tiny pebbles being shoved up into the treads of the tires and going round and round making the anxiety worse, squished and pounded into the ground with every breath as I waited for the car to stop.
Emily said the band would be staying for up to a year while they recorded an album. That meant Ream would be here. That meant I was finally going to have to deal with the shit between us. That was if Ream could be rational for five seconds. I’d prefer to stomp my feet, run to my room and lock the door. That option was negated as soon as I turned twenty a few years ago. There were limits on immaturity once you hit twenty.
I rubbed a bruise on my arm where I had shot the drug into an hour ago. I hated that I had to do it. The issue would be if Ream opened his big mouth and told anyone about my problem. He hadn’t yet so chances were he’d keep it quiet. But him in my face, living in the same house, I didn’t know if I could do it.
No, this was my home and Ream wasn’t chasing me out of it. Christ, my income came from painting scenes of the horses, and I needed that income to eventually move out and buy my own place. The Havoc series of six paintings I did was getting a ton of attention at Lance’s gallery. The gray horse was majestic with her long mane and contoured muscles, making my paintings of her an instant success. Lance had even set up my first solo show, planned in a few weeks.
I’d held out dating him for months but it hadn’t been easy. The guy was persistent and yet not annoyingly so. I finally said yes, and part of me … the part I kept dormant … was doing it to make certain when Ream returned I had Lance to keep me from skipping down that path I promised never to revisit.
But Georgie skipped, and it was right down the porch steps and across the driveway, her pink tipped strands billowing out in every direction. She reminded me of a flamingo darting across the yard, just not as graceful.
My body was so revved with nerves, desire, anger, and uncertainty that I felt like I was under a ginormous magnifying glass in the boiling sun. I was frazzled seeing Ream again, and my body knew it. Frig, who was I kidding? It wasn’t frazzled, it was completely freaking out.
I tried to look casual and undisturbed leaning against the door frame with one hand on my cocked hip, but inside my heart was trying to slow down as it pumped the rush of heated blood through my veins, blood that was laced with Ream-venom—and it was hungry for more.
Emily had the car door open before it even finished rolling to a stop, and I smiled as I heard Logan shouting at her to wait. She ignored him and jumped out, throwing her arms around Georgie. I smiled as I heard their excited chatter.
God, she looked happy. I hadn’t seen Emily’s eyes so bright and full of life in … well, ever, and we’d been besties since we were ten years old. We bonded at a time when she lost her father to cancer and my brother Matt and I lost our parents to drunk driving—my dad unfortunately being the stupid ass drunk.
Logan got out of the driver’s seat, his watchful gaze never leaving Emily. There was no question he was her shield from everything bad in the world. I still didn’t know the details of what happened in Mexico after Emily was kidnapped, but it was enough to know that Logan did and would do anything for her.
When the back driver’s side door opened and a long, lean leg emerged, my heart skipped a beat and my fingers dug into my hip. It was in slow motion as I watched his over-six-foot frame unfold out of the car and straighten. I stared, unable to help myself. Any girl would stare. It would be almost rude not to because Ream was the type of guy who stood out. Not because he had pink hair or shouted or was obnoxious. No, it was because he was the complete opposite. Subtle and dangerously quiet, the feeling like if he spoke you’d better hope he liked you because otherwise you’d be falling at his feet begging for mercy.
