“I don’t have time for this.”
Not letting my anger take over, I say, “I wanted to apologize. I was out of line and never should have said the things I said.”
“It’s fine.” She packs up her brushes.
“Obviously it’s not if you won’t look at me.”
She sighs and finally turns toward me. “Colby, let’s just call it what it is, okay? This friendship wasn’t going to last long anyway. Clearly you have your opinions of me and that’s fine, but I don’t want to feel judged every time I’m around you.”
“I’m not judging you, Ryan, I’m looking out for you.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “You’re judging me. A true friend would never have said the things you said or jumped to conclusions. A true friend would have listened to me, asked about my night before chastising me for going out with someone they didn’t know.”
“I was an idiot, okay? I’m sorry.” She’s slipping away, and it’s scaring the fuck out of me. I don’t know what else to say. “Let me try again. Let’s go out, get some dessert, talk. My treat.”
“Can’t.”
“Ryan, please,” I plead, feeling desperate.
“She’s busy,” a deep voice says from behind me. His shoulder brushes against mine before stepping into Ryan’s space and wrapping his arm around her waist, placing a kiss on her lips.
He’s polished, in what I can only assume is a three-thousand-dollar suit. He’s smells like he sat in a pool of cologne before he came here, and he’s too fucking tanned, making him look like the exact douche I thought he’d be.
Fuck, this is so not the guy for Ryan. What the hell is she thinking?
“Ready, doll face?”
Doll face? What the fuck kind of nickname is that?
“Yeah.” She smiles at him. Looking over his shoulder, Ryan says, “You know your way out, right, Colby?”
Is she fucking kidding me right now? She’s not even going to say bye?
“I leave for TDY in two days.”
She pauses and turns toward me. “Good luck.”
Good luck?
What the hell?
And with that, she takes off, leaving me speechless.
And fucking hurt.
But I can’t be mad at her . . . because this is all my fault.
Chapter Ninety-Six
COLBY
I toss my keys on the counter and lean against it, my head in my hands, frustration pouring off me in waves.
Not even a fucking goodbye.
We’ve built this amazing and surprising bond—a bond I don’t think I’ve had with anyone else—and she won’t even fucking try to fix what I broke? I hurt her that badly?
Good luck. No farewell. Just good luck.
Fuck.
“Hey, there you are,” Sage says, coming into the room. She’s been staying at my place now more often than at her brother’s. It makes more sense. “I thought you were coming home after your debrief.”
“Had something to take care of,” I mutter, going to the fridge and grabbing a beer. I’ve been restocking the fridge a lot lately with beer, almost as if I need a few every fucking night to get to the next day.
Sierra Nevada.
And it makes me think of Ryan.
“Well, I’m glad you’re home now. I had a few things I wanted to talk to you about.” She pulls out a notebook, the same notebook she’s been carrying around with her everywhere. I want to destroy that notebook, rip it up with my bare hands, and throw it in the fire pit. That notebook has done nothing but cause me stress and irritation.
“I’m not in the mood right now.” I brush past her and go to the couch, flipping the TV on. I need mindless shit right now, nothing that will force me to think and come up with answers.
Sitting next to me, Sage steals the remote and turns the TV off. My head falls to the back of the couch as I count to ten to tamp down my fury.
You’re angry because of what you said to Ryan, because of the major fuck-up you caused in your friendship with her. You’re not mad at Sage, so do not take it out on her.
“I know you need to de-stress after a mission and especially before your TDY, but you’re leaving, and I need to talk to you about a few things before you go.” God, her sweetness and empathy makes me feel like a giant dick. Again.
I drag my hand over my face. “I’m sorry. Go ahead. Hit me with your questions.”
“Thank you.” She smiles and leans over, pressing a kiss to my mouth.
“First things first. I booked my ticket to come see you in a month and a half. I’m flying into Denver, as it was cheaper. I hope that’s okay. I know it will be a pain to pick me up.”
“It’s fine, if I can’t make it, I’ll have Rory or Stryder get you.”
We thought since my temporary duty is in Colorado Springs, it would be a great time for Sage to come visit where I grew up and meet Stryder and Rory, who I talk about often. Plus, she wants to take a look at the venue, and it was the perfect opportunity to make that happen.
“They won’t mind?”
I shake my head. “They owe me from all the shit I did for them when it came to their wedding. So believe me, they’ll be fine with it. Plus Rory is super excited to meet you.”
“Ah, I can’t wait either.” Sage makes a check mark in her notebook and adjusts her glasses.
“I want to get invitations ordered soon, but we haven’t agreed on a style yet. Do you think we could do that in the next two days?”
“I trust you, Sage. Pick what you want.”
Her brow creases. “I want you to be a part of this too, Colby. This is our wedding.”
“Seems more like your wedding given all the decisions already made.” I tip back my bottle, immediately regretting what I said. Before she can even respond, I say, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m in a really bad mood, and I’m taking it out on you.”
Somberly she nods. “I get that your job is stressful, Colby, and I’m here for you, I always will be, but I won’t be your punching bag.”
Christ, I’m really fucking up with all the women in my life. I should probably call Rory and tell her something to piss her off just for the trifecta.
“I know, I’m sorry. Come here.” I pull her into a hug and kiss the side of her neck. “I’m being a bastard. Forgive me.”
She nods, putting a smile back on my face. Shit, she’s so easygoing. She makes it too easy on me. Maybe she needs to learn a lesson from Ryan on how to throw more shade.
“Okay, since I’ll be house-sitting for you, I thought I’d do a few things around the house, make it more ours rather than yours. Is that okay?”
“What kind of stuff?” Not that I really care. It’s been a living space only. My home, but not particularly homey to others, I guess.
“Well, you know, some throw pillows and colorful art for the walls, maybe a nice accent rug.”
“What, you don’t like my decorating style?” I tease, poking her in the side.
She looks around, taking in the bare walls. “Its simplistic, that’s for sure.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, do whatever you want, just don’t make it too girly.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t. Which leads me to the spare bedroom.”
“What about the spare bedroom?”
“I was hoping I could move your planes and make it into a guest room.”
I shake my head. “Don’t touch my planes.”
“Colby, come on.”
“I’m fucking serious, Sage. Don’t touch them. That room is off limits.” And once again, the tension in the room amplifies as she shifts on the couch.
“So that’s how it’s going to be? Your word is final?”
Well, it’s my goddamn house.
I shake my head and stand from the couch, bringing my now empty beer bottle to the sink where I wash it out. “Those planes mean a lot to me, okay? Just leave them where they are.”
“And where are my parents supposed to stay when they come to visit? Am I
supposed to tell them they have to sleep on the couch because Colby needs an entire room for his planes?”
“Yeah,” I answer like a child and head to the bedroom. I strip to my boxer briefs, just as I hear Sage open the door to the spare bedroom. My heart drops as I run to the room. I catch her looking around, shaking her head. I only keep a select few with me, but they’re ones I need to see sometimes to feel grounded. Connected. She can’t do this. She can’t be in here.
“This is stupid, Colby. You barely come in here.”
“Because I barely have time anymore.”
“Which is why you should either pack them up or sell them. You’re wasting space.”
“Watch it,” I warn, my chest rising and falling quicker than before.
She picks up a wing and flips it over, confusion written all over her face. “This is ridiculous. You can put these somewhere else; let this be a guest room.”
“Put that the fuck down,” I seethe, flashbacks of Ted fucking with my planes hitting me hard in the chest, playing on repeat in my head. “Put it down, now.”
“Colby—”
“Get out of this room.” I point to the door.
A flash of embarrassment crosses her face before she exits, but I don’t give a shit. She can’t come in this room and start making demands. This is my room, the most important room in my house. I glance at a picture I’ve kept of me with my dad and grandpa. Mentally, I tell them I love them and then make my way into my bedroom where I find Sage crying on the bed.
I don’t stop.
Something inside me has changed. It’s as if overnight, someone has come in and poured concrete over my heart, keeping me from feeling anything.
“Why are you being so mean to me?” she finally asks as I finish brushing my teeth.
“I’m just tired, okay? And when I tell you not to touch that room, I mean it.”
“But why?”
“Because it’s important to me. Maybe if you spent a little less time planning the damn wedding and trying to get to know me, you would know. It’s like we’re not even a couple anymore, Sage.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“When was the last time we had sex?”
She goes to open her mouth but stops as she thinks about it.
“Exactly,” I point out. “It’s been far too long for people who just got engaged. We should be fucking every goddamn night.”
“Is that all I am to you, someone to fuck?” The swear word sounds weird coming from her. Sage is too . . . gentile, or something. Fuck.
“Don’t do that. Don’t turn my words on me. Every time I try to initiate any kind of contact with you, you push me away. It’s not from a lack of trying on my end, Sage.”
“Is that what this is really about? You’re mad that I haven’t had sex with you in a while? You’re mad that you’re leaving for three months and are going to be flying with blue balls the entire time?”
I shake my head, feeling the nastiness coming from the both of us, something very unlike the people we normally are.
Wanting to take a step back and not end up saying something we’ll really regret later, I say, “We should go to bed. We’re going to keep going around in circles and end up hurting each other’s feelings, and that’s not what I want. It’s not what I need right now. I need my head in the game, not overanalyzing a fight I had with my fiancée.”
Understanding what I’m trying to say, she nods and takes a few steps forward, walking right into my arms. “I’m sorry, Colby.”
“I’m sorry too,” I reply, kissing the top of her head and holding on to her tightly.
“Look, I’m going to head back to Rocky’s for tonight. Okay?” She still looks so sad, but I simply have nothing inside me to comfort her. I’ll sleep alone again tonight. It should frustrate me, but for some reason, I’m almost relieved.
“Okay. Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yep. Good night, Colby.” She gives me a kiss on the lips, but again, I feel void of feeling.
I see her to the door, lock up, and climb the stairs. I’m deep in thought when I should be trying to get to sleep. But my mind isn’t caught up in the fight I had with Sage, or the lack of connection I’ve felt with her lately. It’s more concerned about the lack of conversation with Ryan.
And what’s even more fucked up is that I’m more upset about not receiving a hug from Ryan than I am over not having sex with my fiancée for another night.
The realization of that hits me harder than I expect.
I convince myself it’s because I know things will be okay with Sage; we’re just going through a little rough patch because we’re stressed.
But with Ryan, I’m not sure everything is going to be okay. I can’t get the look of . . . detachment out of my mind. She really didn’t want to see me. But her words . . . her words sliced me.
“Colby, let’s just call it what it is, okay? This friendship wasn’t going to last long anyway.” I hadn’t expected that. God, I was able to resurrect a friendship with Stryder, that seemed like an impossible situation because we were both in love with the same girl, yet we’re okay. Thank God. But why does this seem so much bigger, and why does my heart ache, imagining my life without Ryan’s friendship? No, fuck no. I refuse to accept that our friendship isn’t going to last.
Chapter Ninety-Seven
RYAN
“That’s what you’re wearing?” Donovan asks as he gives me a once-over.
I take in my modest dress—high neck, slim bodice, and short sleeves. The hem reaches two inches above my knees. I might not be showing off any cleavage tonight, but I am showing a lot of skin.
“Yes, is this not okay?”
“You look like a nun.”
I smooth my hands over my hips. “It actually shows off my curves. I thought you’d like—”
“I like your tits.” He checks his watch and grumbles. “Shit, we don’t have time for you to change.”
Feeling a little nervous, not wanting to let Donovan down, I say, “I’m sorry. I thought you would like it.”
Hand on his jaw, he takes me in once more, spinning me while holding my hand, a smile curving at his lips. “All right, it’s hot. But you should be showing off more of your boobs, that’s all. I want my guys to be jealous.”
“I can run into that shop and get something else if you want.” I point to the boutique in the hotel that most likely will have something that would fit what Donovan’s looking for.
“Nah.” He kisses the side of my cheek. “This will do. Don’t want to be late.” He takes my hand and leads me to an escalator, holding me close to his side.
“Are you nervous?” I ask, wondering what it’s like to play at a high-stakes poker table. Last night, I tried to keep my mind off the sad and devastated look on Colby’s face when I walked away a few days ago by researching everything I could about poker.
Buy-in for this table is five hundred thousand dollars.
I choked on the carrot I was eating when I read that. Who has that kind of money to spare? To just toss around as if it’s junk change?
I couldn’t fathom that.
Then I tried to learn more so I knew what was happening tonight and didn’t look stupid. I also made sure to watch videos, which were beyond boring.
Basically, tonight is going to be a drag, but it’s an escape, a chance to get out of my small apartment and off my tear-soaked pillow.
It gives me a chance to forget about the hollowness in the pit of my stomach, the nausea I carry around daily, and the sickening feeling I get every time I think about Colby leaving and not saying bye.
I know he’s only going to Colorado Springs, but he’s still training, and anything could happen. And I said nothing but good luck. No matter how bad he hurt me, I never should have let things end like that.
I hate myself for not giving him a proper goodbye.
And what I hate even more is that when he texts me, I can’t find it in me to respond. For so many reasons.
He hurt me.
I’m trying to forget about him.
I love him when I have no right to love him.
I need to distance myself, and even though the idea of not talking to him anymore pains me to my core, I have to let go.
“Nervous, nah, this shit is for fun,” he answers, guiding me through the casino. “But remember what I told you. You stand to my side and don’t make a sound. Your only job is to refill my drink when I need it.”
Did I mention I’m glorified arm candy tonight?
I should feel used and upset and want to dump this guy, but instead, for some stupid twisted and fucked-up reason, I like feeling needed.
He needs me.
To get him his drinks . . . but nonetheless, I’m going to be worth something today. I’m going to be someone Donovan can be proud of, and that’s more than I can say for the way Colby feels about me.
Grow up.
Those words still ring in my head, reminding me of every time my mom ever said that to me.
Grow up, Ryan. You can’t wear that kind of thing with your belly hanging out.
When are you going to grow up, Ryan, and realize you’re never going to be like those other girls?
It’s time to grow up, Ryan, and start taking care of your body. You can’t look like that your whole life or no one will ever want to date you.
Condescending and hurtful, the perfect way to describe my mom. I can’t remember a time when she actually thought I was beautiful or worthy of being her daughter.
And Colby’s words brought back every raw sting, making it almost impossible for me to look him in the eye. He hit a trigger, and it stole the breath from my lungs, not in a good way.
“How long do you think the game will go?”
“Hours. Hope you wore comfortable shoes.”
I glance at my four-inch heels and groan inwardly. I have a feeling I’m going to hate everything about tonight.
* * *
“God dammit,” Donovan says, slapping the table, startling me once again. That’s the third hand in a row he’s bet an insane amount of money and lost. For a while, he was drawing very impressive hands, but the last few have been awful.
The Duets Page 77