Just Exes

by Charity Ferrell

  “What about the bedroom at your dad’s you’re crashing in? Is that in the no-fucking zone?”

  “Do you want it to be?”

  Yes! Yes!

  “You can do whatever you want, Gage.”

  My breath catches in my throat when his gaze locks on mine, and he goes quiet until our eye contact is strong. I want to close my eyes, cut off our connection, but I can’t pull away. I feel this affinity in my core, and that’s exactly what he wants.

  “Do you want it to be?” he repeats, enunciating each word.

  I shrug and play with my hands without looking away. “I mean, it’d be weird, knowing my ex-boyfriend is only feet away, screwing another woman, but that’s what they make Xanax and headphones for.”

  “Then, my bedroom is also a no-fucking zone.”

  “Glad we could come up with an agreement of where the no-fucking areas are.” I pause. “Have you … slept with an ungodly number of women since me?”

  What girl wouldn’t want to scoop him up and throw him into her bed?

  “A few here and there. You?” He shakes his head. “I don’t know if I want to know the answer.”

  “A few here and there,” I say in the same tone as his.

  “Were they as great as I was?”

  I slap his shoulder. “Really?”

  So not going there. If I share stories, he might do the same.

  “I had to crack a joke. Otherwise, I’d want to kill any other man who’d touched you.” He picks up the bowl and goes back to eating. “You know, back then, I thought I’d be the only man who ever touched you like that. The only man you ever made love to.”

  “I haven’t made love to anyone else.” I sigh, and my answer stops him mid-bite.

  He keeps our eye contact, his spoon half in the air, and waits for me to keep going.

  “I mean, I’ve had sex, but it’s never been anything serious. What about you? You ever made love to anyone?” I don’t bother asking if he’s had sex. No way he’s been celibate since our breakup.

  “Made love? Only you.”

  Those are the same words he said the first time he slid inside me. The same words he repeated every time we had sex.

  “Only you,” he mutters again.

  The bowl goes to the table again, and he turns, so he’s facing me. I lick my lips, and the mood in the room drifts into something dangerous.

  No, I can’t get turned on right now.

  The need to straddle him and see if he’s still as good as he was then tears at me.

  Does he still know every weak spot on my body?

  No. Don’t go there.

  This crazy thinking must be a side effect of the lack of sex in my life. It’s been months since I’ve gotten laid.

  He moves in closer.

  One time.

  Maybe we can do it one more time and get that frustration out. I’ve heard hate sex is all the rage.

  I close my eyes, waiting for him to make the first move, and open them at the sound of the bowl moving. He’s up on his feet, gumbo in hand, and walking to the kitchen.

  “Are you leaving?” I ask while he sets his bowl in the sink.

  “I have to before I push you down on that couch and fuck you.”

  Wait! I want to say. Please do.

  I don’t have time to state an argument before he’s gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

  I told myself that Gage would never come back to Blue Beech after what I did.

  That a second chance was never in the cards for us.

  Maybe I was wrong.

  .

  Twelve

  Gage

  As soon as I walk into my bedroom, I rip out of my jeans and head straight to the shower, desperate to tend to my hard-as-a-rock cock. The water rains down on me while I settle one hand against the tiled wall and stroke myself using the other, the same way I have done for years while thinking about her.

  Rough and hard and fast.

  Anger and frustration mingled with lust.

  Lauren was as turned on as I was.

  She wanted to fuck, and so help me God, I wanted to fuck her more than anything. More than when I had been a horny teen, sticking my dick into her for the first time.

  I pump my hips, imagining it’s her hand instead of mine, her lips sucking my tip. Even if she had wanted it, there was no way I wouldn’t be disgusted with myself for letting her touch my dick after Susie the Grinder had her hands on me.

  “Fuck, Lauren,” I grunt out. “Fuck yes.”

  My cum shoots down the drain as I catch my breath.

  Letting her move in was a bad idea.

  Letting her back into my head was a terrible idea.

  This time, it’ll be tougher getting her out.

  My hand clenches around my phone when I read the text my friend—slash—once partner from Chicago sent me this morning.

  Luke: Missy applied for an appeal.

  Motherfucker. That won’t be happening on my watch. My hands shake as I type out my response.

  Me: I’ll die before I allow that to happen.

  I have to stop myself from throwing my phone across the room.

  Luke: I’m with you, bro. I’ll ask around and collect as much info as I can.

  Me: Appreciate it.

  Luke: You doing okay?

  Me: As good as I can be.

  Luke: Take care of yourself. You have my number if you need anything.

  Me: Thanks, man.

  A text comes in with the link to Missy’s appeal paperwork. My teeth grit, my shoulders turning tense, while I slowly read it, taking in word by word. I nearly drop my phone at the sound of a knock at the front door. I shove it into my pocket and kick my feet against the hardwood floor on my way to answer it.

  My interest piques when I eye Lauren through the glass. She’s moving from one foot to the other, and the sight of her wearing one of my high school tees helps ease some of the anger from Luke’s revelation. I hope like hell our conversation will stop me from boarding the first flight to Chicago to raise hell.

  “Hey,” she greets when I step out onto the porch and shut the door behind me.

  Her short blue pajama shorts, which stop mid-thigh and show off her toned legs, are an extension to one of my old T-shirts. Traces of her nipples cut through the fabric of the white tee.

  Shit, don’t stare.

  Is she trying to kill me?

  Her gaze shoots down my body the same way I did hers, but I was more discreet about it. She’s either clueless to how transparent she is or she doesn’t care. My cock twitches in my shorts. She needs to quit looking at me like she wants me for breakfast before I have her pussy as mine.

  I tip my chin up in response. “Morning.”

  She bites into her lip and looks past me, into the house. “Sorry if I woke anyone up, but something is wrong with the water. I can’t get any decent water pressure in the shower. Hudson said he’d stop by sometime today to look at it, so I wanted to give you a heads-up he was coming.”

  “I’ll take a look at it.”

  There’s sleep in her eyes, exhaustion on her face, and her thick hair is pulled into a ponytail, loose strands moving with the morning wind. “You sure?”

  “If there’s a problem, it’s my responsibility.” I cock my head toward the loft. “Come on, let’s take a look at it.”

  The sun is rising as I lead her to the loft, and I don’t realize I’m not wearing a shirt until we make it into the bathroom. She’s sans bra. We’re both somewhat bare to each other. A bra is on the floor. Red. Lace.

  So fucking sexy.

  She kicks at it with her feet. “Sorry. I was planning on cleaning up before I left for work.”

  “I don’t mind the new decor.” I step into the tub and quickly figure out the solution. “Looks like the showerhead is clogged. I’ll get a new one and fix it after work.”

  “Should’ve been the first thing I checked. I’m working a double today, so I won’t be back until late. There’s no rush.”
<
br />   “You can use the shower in the house if you want.”

  She shakes her head. “Dallas said he’d lend me his shower in exchange for me bringing diapers.”

  “I heard you were a second-time auntie.”

  “It’s a big responsibility, you know.” She leans against the counter and crosses her arms. “Giving them candy and sending them home on a sugar high. I’m the best aunt ever.” She sighs. “In all seriousness, it did bring my brother out of the darkness. Samuel is one of the best things to happen to our family lately.”

  “Glad to hear that. Dallas is a good dude. Good things happen to good people.” I step out of the tub. “I’ll try to have it fixed by the time you’re home tonight, so you won’t be on diaper duty again.”

  “Thank you.” She pauses. “We, uh … never discussed rent.”

  “Let me talk with my dad and get back with you.” Not happening.

  Kyle was right when he said I wouldn’t take a penny from her.

  “Cool.” She picks up her bra, tosses it into the hamper, and closes the lid before grabbing her bag.

  I stop her before she leaves. “As your landlord, it’s probably smart I give you my number—you know, in case anything else like this happens again.”

  “Fair point.”

  I rattle off my number, and she punches it into her phone. I’m tempted to ask for hers but don’t. I can’t go there … can’t risk texting her when I’m desperate.

  I’m about to leave the bathroom when she stands on her tiptoes, grabs my chin, and pulls it to the side, examining my cheek. “How are your stitches? Any pain or irritation?”

  “No pain, no irritation. They haven’t been bothering me at all.”

  She keeps inspecting them. “They’re healing nicely.”

  I smile. “Because they were done by the best, right?”

  “Duh.” She follows me out of the bathroom. “I’ll see you, uh … later. Thank you for fixing the shower.”

  “It’s no problem.” I clear my throat when she turns around. “And nice shirt.”

  She pulls at the bottom while hiding a smile. “My wardrobe is limited right now.”

  “Wear my clothes as much as you like. The sight makes my dick hard.”

  A blush fills her cheeks when I take one last glimpse at her before leaving.

  “Who took the report on Lauren’s landlord situation?” I ask. “It was reported to her insurance company that she might’ve started the fire, so they’re trying to fuck her over on cutting a check.”

  “Oh, you mean, after you were supposed to bring her in and never did?” Kyle replies.

  Pretty much.

  “I questioned her. She didn’t do it.”

  “You’re believing criminal exes now?”

  “The dude is pissed she turned him down for a date. He followed her out of Down Home the other night and gave her shit for not going home with him. Lauren hadn’t started that fire. His dick is the one blaming her.”

  “Damn, does she have a golden vagina? All you men falling for her.”

  “You might want to shut your mouth if you don’t want to be eating through a straw for the next six months.”

  “Yeah, yeah. She’s your first love, your one and only, the other half of your heart.”

  “You need me to mention the straw part again?”

  He opens the dashboard and pulls a straw out, opens his coffee cup, tosses the lid, and drops the straw in. He annoyingly slurps from it while taking a drink of his coffee. “Straw or not, I’ll still drink like a motherfucker.”

  “I hate your ass, you know that?”

  “Love you, too, brother. I’ll have Sanders look into your arsonist sweetie’s case.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  “You sleep with her yet?”

  “Who?” I know whom he’s referring to.

  “Who the fuck do you think I’m talking about? Kim Kardashian? Have you slept with Lauren yet? The date who you not only bailed on but also called the wrong name called my date and told her about it after you left, interrupting us during sex. I love you, dude. I loved y’all together, but I don’t like seeing you get fucked over—again.”

  “We’re not screwing. That ship has sailed, and we both know it.”

  “Not yet.”

  I shoot him a dirty look.

  “If that’s the case, Tamra has another friend she can hook you up with. Quit pining over your live-in ex-girlfriend.”

  “She doesn’t fucking live with me,” I cut in.

  “As I was saying, you two are only feet away from each other, and I’m sure you’re dying to have her. Might as well let a hot chick help with that frustration.”

  “I’m too busy to worry about women at the moment.”

  Thirteen

  Lauren

  Jay slams his tray down on the table and takes the seat across from me in the hospital cafeteria. “FYI, my husband is pissed at you.”

  I drop my fork in my salad. “What? Why?”

  “He has yet to receive an update on the ex situation. It’s imperative he knows if you’ve had sex with him yet.”

  “No,” I answer around a groan. “There will be no us having sex. In case you’ve failed to remember, he had his date in the car with us!”

  “And he couldn’t have given a shit about her. He was at Clayton’s for you. He took you home for him. For his own peace of mind that you’d be safe. I’ll bet he dropped his date off and went home alone.”

  Not exactly alone. But I won’t be divulging that information.

  “Behind all of that pissed-off, hard facade, Gage is a caring man who’ll always think about my safety. That’s who he is. He’s a police officer. It’s his duty.”

  “True, but he also does it because he loves you.” He sighs. “You loved him at one point. Those feelings were there, and from what it looked like at dinner, they still are.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “When’s the last time you went on a date?”

  “My job is my boyfriend. Saving people’s lives is my orgasm. This is where I spend all of my time. You know that.”

  “So, why not date someone who works here? The doctors talk. I know how many people in this building have asked you out.”

  “I’m not interested in dating, and FYI, I’ve slept with someone I work with, so I’m not depriving myself of orgasms,” I lie. I’ve never even gone on a date with someone from the hospital.

  “Who was it?” He stares at me. “Tell me it wasn’t Pete from ortho.”

  I draw a line over my lips and fake zip.

  It wasn’t Pete from ortho.

  It was Victor, my vibrator, courtesy of Amazon Prime.

  I cannot wait to shower and sleep this shift away.

  The lights are on at the loft when I pull into the drive.

  Gage must’ve forgotten to turn them off after he fixed the shower. Unless I left them on, which wouldn’t surprise me, given I’m supposedly a lousy tenant and all. If this place goes up in flames, I’m for sure getting locked up.

  There’s no sign of life in the main house, but Gage’s truck is here, so he must be in bed. I walk through the front door and start stripping out of my scrubs. I didn’t check myself in the mirror before leaving work, but I know my eyes are puffy, and hints of mascara are running down my cheeks.

  I’m rubbing my eyes and yawning as I make my way into the bathroom and then let out a full-on dramatic scream.

  Gage is standing in front of me with a smile on his face, wiping his wet hands off on a towel. I’m in my bra and panties. I repeat, I’m in my bra and panties in front of my ex-boyfriend, and they’re suddenly more soaked than what I’ll be when I get in the shower. He’s shirtless, and remnants of water are running down his fit chest.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, catching my breath.

  “Fixing your shower,” he says, pointing to the tub. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I should’ve given you a heads-up that I’d be here, but I don’t have your number.
I had a long day, and this was the first free minute I had.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  He hands me a towel. “Trust me, babe, there’s nothing on you I haven’t seen before. To be more specific, I’ve seen much more.” He chuckles and licks his lips. “I also know what you taste like.”

  “I can say the same for you,” I whisper.

  He wipes the side of his mouth. “Kyle is convinced we’re going to have sex.”

  “Kyle must have turned mental since we last talked.” I give him a frustrated glare. “You know he hasn’t talked to me since we broke up? I know bro code is real and all, but homeboy hates my guts.”

  “That’s my boy.”

  “Gee, thanks. I don’t remember forming a hate club against you.”

  “Never told him to hate you. He formed that opinion on his own, and I’m not sure how anyone could be pissed at me for your ending our relationship.” He leans against the wall. “You know I would’ve never done that to you, especially the way you did it.”

  “Can we go back to joking about sex now? I’m too exhausted to talk about blame and people being mad at me.”

  He blinks at me a few times. “You’re upset.”

  I nod, trying to stop myself from bursting into tears.

  “Long day?”

  “You have no idea.” I slump down the wall and settle on the floor.

  “What happened?”

  A tear slides down my cheek. “We had a baby come in this evening who’d gotten into his mother’s coke stash while she was passed out. He overdosed, and instead of calling for help or bringing him to the hospital, she called her mother. His grandmother brought him in because his mother was afraid she’d be arrested for possession. By the time he got to us, he was having seizures, and we knew it was too late.”

  “Fuck,” he hisses.

  “I was his nurse. Jay, his doctor.” Another tear falls down my face. “We tried everything but we weren’t able to save him. Two years old and no longer alive, thanks to his selfish mother. I had no choice but to let her see him when she finally got the balls to come to the hospital. God, I wanted to snap when she screamed at us to save her baby like it was our fault, and then she dared to say we didn’t do enough to keep her baby alive.” I sigh, the memory jerking through me, and clench my jaw. “They prep us for situations like these. I’ve watched patients of all ages die, witnessed people lose limbs and go through severe trauma. It’s hard, but for some reason, this woman infuriated me. Her son died because she was irresponsible and negligent.”