Just Exes

by Charity Ferrell

  There goes my patience and trying to lay low.

  I charge forward, and he grunts when I slam him against the car. “The fuck did I say? Walk away, shut your fucking mouth, and don’t you come near her again. You hear me?”

  He repeatedly nods until I release him. He slides against the car, away from me, and then arrogantly runs his hands down to smooth out the wrinkles of his suit, which is nowhere appropriate to wear at a run-down pub like this. “Let me know if you change your mind, sweetie.”

  “That’ll be never,” Lauren blurts out. “Some words of advice: go buy a sex doll because that’s the only way you’re getting laid.”

  He sprints away to the other side of the parking lot, and I erase the distance between Lauren and me.

  “You okay?” I ask, running my hand down her face, checking for any marks.

  “Just peachy.” She slaps my hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

  I step away at her request, and she takes a deep breath before letting it out.

  “Sorry for snapping,” she says, her voice level. “He had me all hyped up.”

  “No need to apologize.” I tip my head toward my truck a few spaces away. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “I’m fine. I only had one drink.”

  “I’m not concerned about you being drunk. I’m worried about your safety.”

  “I’ll be okay.” She fishes through her purse for her keys with shaking hands. “I’ll be fine. You scared him away.”

  “I’ll follow you home then.”

  I do a once-over of the parking lot before lowering my voice and dipping down to Lauren’s level. “Landlord didn’t go back into the bar. He walked to his car and hasn’t left. My guess is, he’s waiting for you to leave, so he can do something stupid. I’ll be damned if I let that happen.”

  Understanding dawns on her face.

  “You don’t think …” she mutters, stopping mid-sentence.

  “Who knows how big his balls are? Regardless, I won’t risk it.” I hold two fingers up. “That gives you two options. One is I’ll follow you home. Then tomorrow, we’ll file a restraining order against the punk.” I put down a finger. “The second option is you let me give you a ride, and we’ll still file a restraining order.”

  It’s her turn to do a nervous scan of the parking lot. “I’ll ride with you.”

  I keep my hand on her back as we walk to my truck, and I help her in.

  She slides her sandals off and rests her feet on the dash as soon as we pull out of the parking lot. “God, I remember these days. Your truck was older back then. Ripped seats. Smelled like your dad’s old cologne.”

  “Ah, yes, his rusted beater,” I say with a laugh, happy she’s no longer shaking. “That front seat saw plenty of action.”

  “Plenty of awkward, first-time action.”

  “I won’t deny that.” I tap my hand against the steering wheel and curse myself for what I’m about to do. It’ll ruin the comfortableness of our ride, but the question has been haunting me for years. “Why’d you do it?”

  Her feet drop from the dash. “Huh?”

  “Why’d you leave me?”

  “Gage … I told you why.”

  “No, you gave me a bullshit excuse.”

  “And you’ll receive the same one tonight. It was for the best.”

  I scoff, “Maybe it was for you, but it sure as fuck wasn’t for me. You were my fucking life, Lauren. The reason I bled. Hell, I loved you more than my own life, my own breath, and you knew that. We had plans, and then one day, you changed your mind, out of nowhere.”

  She scrubs her hands over her face. “That was the problem, Gage. You can’t make someone your entire life. We didn’t know anything, except for each other. We never had the chance to find ourselves.”

  “I knew myself. Knew I wanted you. Knew who I loved.”

  It isn’t until we pull into her parents’ drive that I realize why she’s kept her hands over her face. It’s to mask the tears falling down her cheeks. The urge to reach out and comfort her rips through me, but I can’t.

  “Can we not do this? It’s in the past. Let it be.” Her voice breaks.

  She’s had a rough night, and my actions have only made it worse.

  “You’re right. You’re over it. It’s time I do the same.”

  She clears her throat. “Let’s be friends, okay?”

  “I can’t be your friend.”

  “I understand.”

  She gives me a quick nod before opening the door, ending our conversation. She’s gone, rushing up the sidewalk to the front porch before I have the chance to say her name. I stay parked until she disappears into the house, and my phone rings before I shift my truck into reverse. My stomach churns when I see the number, and I accept the call, though I know it’s a terrible idea.

  I’ve already hashed it out with one woman who ruined me tonight, so might as well do it with the other.

  “You have a collect call from … Missy from the Cook County Department of Corrections.”

  My fingers fist around the phone at the sound of her voice.

  “Do you accept the call and any charges that can occur?”

  “I accept,” I grit out.

  I don’t wait for her to mutter a hello when the call is processed. She doesn’t deserve that. Hell, she doesn’t deserve a second of my time.

  “I told you to quit fucking call me.”

  “Gage!” she yells on the line. “Please! Please listen to me for one minute! I want you to hear me out for once.”

  “Nothing you say will ever make me forgive you. Don’t call again.”

  Click.

  The phone rings again. Same number.

  Decline.

  I whisper to the darkness, “I fucking hate you, Missy.”

  Nine

  Lauren

  “Someone came home late.” My mom slides me a glass of orange juice across the kitchen table before placing two Advils next to it. “You look like you had a little too much fun at your brother’s party last night.” Her hands rest on her hips. “I know you like to keep up with the boys, honey, but you’re much smaller than them. Alcohol hits you harder.”

  I wave away her warning. “Psh, I can drink them under the table.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  I grin at the sound of Dad’s voice as he comes strolling into the kitchen.

  “Where’s your car, Laur-Bear?” he asks. “I planned on changing the oil today.”

  “At the pub,” I answer. “I didn’t feel like driving last night.”

  “The pub?” my mom repeats. “Who took you home?” The expression on her face tells me she already knows the answer.

  My mother is the gossip queen of Blue Beech, and I have a love-hate relationship with that hobby of hers. It’s all fun and games until the gossip spread is about you.

  “I see you still excel at spying on your children,” I mutter into my glass before taking a sip and popping the pills. “Even when they’re grown.” An omelet is placed in front of me next.

  She sits down across from me. “It was Gage, wasn’t it?”

  I stop mid-bite. “Now, why in the world would you think that? Gage left Blue Beech years ago and hasn’t come back, right?”

  Her taking a sip of coffee hides her enthusiasm terribly. “Nancy just so happened to mention that he’s back in town, working at the station.”

  My fork clashes against my plate when I drop it. “Are you saying you’ve known Gage has been home for who knows how long and didn’t think it would be a stellar idea to drop that bomb on me, so I wasn’t taken by surprise when we ran into each other?”

  “From what it looked like, your relationship with him didn’t end on good terms. You’ve been busy at the hospital, so I didn’t want to stress you more. You want to talk about what happened between you two?”

  “Nope.”

  Disappointment flashes across her face.

  My mother is a fixer. There’s a solution to every problem in
her book.

  “You’re older, more mature and, sometimes, people need a break from each other to be smacked in the face with the truth. It could be a second chance at love. You and Gage were inseparable for years. You loved that boy, and he loved you.”

  “Don’t you dare try this on me. If you and your little knitting club start plotting some scheme to force us to reconcile, I will not be in attendance for Christmas.”

  “No Christmas means no gifts.”

  I frown. “Fine then. I won’t be showing up on Thanksgiving.”

  My dad laughs. “Unless you plan on having a Marie Callendar’s frozen dinner, you’ll be here.”

  I’ve never understood the phrase, Desperate times call for desperate measures, until I find myself walking into the police station.

  And I’m lucky enough to come face-to-face with Kyle. I’m not sure whose look is dirtier toward the other—mine or his. He stares me down, waiting for my conversation starter, because he won’t be the one to initiate it.

  “Is, um …” I glance around to see if there’s anyone else I can talk to who doesn’t think I’m the devil. “Is Gage around?”

  Kyle looks like he’d rather arrest me than let me near his best friend. “Sure, I’ll go grab him, and I’m only doing this because it’s my job. I’m not allowed to tell people to kick rocks here.”

  “How courteous of you.”

  “Nice is my middle name. Maybe you should give it a try.”

  He gives me his back before I can reply, and Gage looks surprised when he walks out. Kyle must not have given him a heads-up it was me asking for him. I lick my lips and a tingle rolls up my spine at the view of Gage in his uniform again.

  Shit. Control your hormones, girl.

  I ignore all the stares around us. “Can I talk to you real quick?”

  “Sure.” Gage motions for me to follow him and takes me into an office, shutting the door behind us.

  “You have your own office?” I ask, turning around and looking at the door when I sit down. “Aren’t you a newbie around here?”

  “I held a high position in the force in Chicago.”

  “Wait,” I interrupt, holding my hand up. “You lived in Chicago?”

  “Yes.” He scratches his cheeks and goes on before I have the chance to question him more. “There was an open position after Monroe retired, and I took it.”

  Any Chicago talk is definitely off the table for him. His demeanor changed when I repeated that city. It moved from hate to hurt to understanding and now indifference. Last night, Gage said he was over our past, and now he’s going to prove that to me.

  I’m not sure which Gage is worse.

  The pissed off one or the sad one.

  He sits down behind the desk. “You here to file that report against the land-dick?”

  I shake my head. “Is the loft above your garage still available?”

  His face is emotionless. “I believe so.”

  “Will you temporarily lease it to me?”

  He looks as shocked as I am at my question.

  I laugh. “Trust me, I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t desperate. I’ve called nearly every rental available in this godforsaken town. No one will rent to me in fear that I’ll burn the place to the ground. My parents are too nosy, and both of my brothers are in the puke-inducing honeymoon phase with their girlfriends. No, thank you to intruding on their love-fests.”

  He opens up a drawer and pulls out a key. “Move your stuff in whenever.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I find another place.”

  He tips his head my way. “Sounds like a plan.”

  I rise up to leave, but the sound of his whistling stops me.

  “About that report.”

  “He was drunk.”

  “Has he hit on you before?”

  I nod. “A few times, yes.”

  “If you’re not going to file a report, let me know if he keeps coming around.” His gaze lowers on me. “And no more walking through dark parking lots alone, okay?”

  “I don’t need protecting.” I cross my arms. “Plus, you hate me, so why do you care?”

  “My hate toward you won’t stop me from making sure you’re safe.” He slides the key across the desk. “Loft is all yours. I have to get back to work.”

  Ten

  Gage

  “Care to explain what the fuck that was about?” Kyle asks when I step out of my office an hour after Lauren left.

  She came to me. That meant something.

  Sure, she made it seem like she had no other options, but she did. Her parents would love for her to move back in, her brothers would always open their doors for her, and her mid-husband friends would no doubt give her a room at their place.

  “Nothing of your concern,” I mutter.

  “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter.” He trails behind me as I walk through the station, out the door, and straight to the car. This conversation isn’t happening for all of Blue Beech’s ears. “The girl you love but wish you hated strutted her evil ass into your office. She leaves, and when you finally come out, it looks like she told you she was knocked up with another dude’s baby. What gives, bro?”

  His saying I look pissed doesn’t surprise me. I’d set myself up for failure by inviting her to move in.

  “She’s crashing in the loft for a few weeks,” I answer, unlocking the car door.

  He would’ve found out sooner or later. Might as well have him call me a stupid shit now.

  He spits his coffee out on the sidewalk, more dramatic than necessary. “You shitting me? She’s moving in with you? As a roommate or fuckmate?”

  I get in the car, slam the door behind me, and wait until he’s sliding in the passenger seat before answering, “I’ll sleep in my old bedroom in the house.”

  “You sure are being nice to someone you supposedly can’t stand.” He whistles. “I wish my enemies were as considerate as you. Is Miss She-Devil moving in with you when you buy your new house, too?”

  I’ve been on the hunt for a new place since moving back, but the market sucks. Most residents stay in their houses until they die, and then their kids inherit them, repeating history. My dad has tried to sign over the house to me countless times, but I won’t allow it. He built his life, his family, and memories there. I won’t take that away from him. He deserves to have that happiness for as long as he can.

  “It’s only temporary until she finds a new place,” I say. “No one will rent to her.”

  “Can you blame them? The chick is a walking Firestarter, à la Stephen King.”

  I start the engine and settle my cup in the holder. “Shut up.”

  He puts his cup in next. “You’re too damn soft for her, man. Pussy is a weakness for some men, and there’s no doubt, Lauren’s pussy is yours.”

  I shove his shoulder. “Watch your mouth. She needs somewhere to stay. That’s it.”

  “The chick has family. She can rent another apartment out of town. There are plenty of options for Blue Beech’s golden girl that don’t involve shacking up with you.”

  “My dad can use the extra income.”

  “Bullshit,” he coughs into his hand. “You won’t take a penny from her.”

  “What’s up with you in my business? You been watching Hallmark movies with your mom again? I don’t question you about your women troubles.”

  His lips tilt into a grin. “Oh, so she’s your woman now?”

  “I still hate her.”

  “Perfect. I have a date tonight, and she’s bringing a friend. Your uptight ass needs to get laid.” He smacks my back. “Time to fuck that she-devil out of your mind.”

  Lauren’s ugly-ass pink Mustang is parked in the driveway when I pull in.

  It doesn’t surprise me that she’s still driving her first car. In order to buy it, she worked at the town diner for years to save up money. Her parents agreed to match whatever she came up with. I thought the car was hideous then, and I detest it even more now. The dudes on
the basketball team loved giving me hell when she forced me to ride passenger while she drove around town.

  I contemplate whether to head up to the loft and check on her but don’t. Kyle was right about me needing to pull my head out of my ass and remember the pain she caused me. I can’t let her step back into my life with her gorgeous smile, those beautiful brown eyes, and that contagious laugh and break down my walls.

  It fucking killed me last time.

  I wasn’t as weak then.

  It’d be worse the second go-around.

  I snatch my phone up from the passenger seat when it beeps.

  Kyle: You driving or want me to pick you up?

  Me: Driving. Be there in 30.

  Kyle: Bring an overnight bag. Bringing a date home to a loft you share with your ex most likely won’t be a turn on for her.

  Me: Fuck off.

  Kyle: See you soon, assface.

  I make it my mission not to look toward the loft when I head into the house. I shower and throw on jeans and a simple white tee. It takes a minute to find my duffel bag in the back of my closet. I lay it on the bed and stare down at it.

  Should I?

  It’s been nearly five months since I’ve had sex. Pussy hasn’t been on my mind since Missy did what she did. Maybe it’s what I need. They say sex helps with stress. Let’s test that theory.

  I pack the bag, throw it over my shoulder, and say good-bye to my dad on my way out.

  Lauren is skipping down the stairs with her keys in her hand while I head to my truck. She’s sporting tight-ass yoga pants and a tank top that shows off her generous cleavage. Her tits have grown since high school, just like my hands—although they’d still cup them perfectly.

  How many other ways has her body changed?

  Is her pussy still as tight?

  Are her weak spots still the same?

  She stops and looks at me before I make it to my truck. “Your stuff is still in the closet.”

  I drag a hand through my hair. “I haven’t had the chance to clear it out yet. It’ll be gone by the weekend.”