“You said you’d never made love to anyone else,” I whisper.
“Never loved her.”
My brain is scrambling. “Why would you marry someone you didn’t love?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Good thing we have plenty of time.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m talking about it.”
“You were married.”
“Yes.” The topic seems to frustrate him.
I play with the fabric of my scrubs. “Where is she now? Do you guys still talk?”
Is she prettier than I am? Skinnier? Smarter?
I’m jealous of a woman I’ve never met.
“In prison.”
Okay, maybe not so jealous now.
“What?” I wait for him to tell me he’s kidding, that it’s some sick joke, but he doesn’t. “Care to elaborate on that truth bomb?”
“No. We married for a stupid reason, she lost her goddamn mind, and I divorced her.”
“Just to clarify real quick. Does the wifey work in a prison, or is she an inmate in prison?”
“She’s incarcerated.”
That doesn’t tell me anything.
“What did she do to earn her trip to the pen?”
“She was fucking selfish.”
“Okay,” I draw out. “With your work in law enforcement, I’m sure it’s no secret that you can’t be given a cellmate for simply being selfish. You have to commit a crime to do the time.”
“Cool. Thanks for the education. Still not talking about it.”
This morning conversation has taken a wrong turn. A turn I don’t like.
“My stuff will be out of the loft by the end of the week. Hopefully, before that, considering I don’t have much. Don’t worry about picking me up tonight. I’ll find a ride.”
He points to himself in amazement. “You’re pissed at me?”
I throw my hands up. “Yes!”
“Lauren, you have no right to be angry with me.”
“You married another woman!”
“And you left me, giving me the opportunity to marry her. Had we never broken up, you would’ve been the only woman I ever said I do to.”
“It doesn’t matter or change how I feel about it. You’ve been harboring this grudge, this resentment toward me, for breaking your heart, yet you married another woman.” I snort. “Then, you lied straight to my face about never falling in love again.”
“Never loved her. We were friends, and I married her as a favor.”
A favor? Who marries someone as a favor? Not sane people, that’s for sure.
“Bull-fucking-shit. Maybe you need to be locked up with her—for selfish reasons, of course.”
“Lauren,” he says in warning.
“Screw you, Gage. If you didn’t love her, why did you feel the need to marry her, like it’s a common courtesy or some shit?”
“Not going there, nor will I ever.” He shakes his head. “I should’ve never told you. Forget I said anything.”
“Whoa, pump those brakes, buddy. You can’t throw that truth bomb and then expect me to forget it.”
I have so many questions.
“That’s where you’re wrong. Just like you don’t owe me an explanation of why you broke up with me, I don’t owe you one about what I’ve been doing since then.”
I stomp my feet against the floorboard when he turns into the entrance of the hospital. I need more time to drag admissions out of him. Although I doubt he’ll be confiding in me about anything else.
“What time does your shift end?” he asks, shifting his truck into park.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll find a ride. Go call your wife.” I’m acting petty, I know, but I’m dizzy while processing that he moved on with someone else. I shouldn’t be, given I’d pushed him into her arms, but it’s the only reaction I can give at the moment.
“We’re too old to play fucking games,” he says, annoyance running through his words. “What time, Lauren?”
“Eight,” I huff out.
“I’ll be here.”
I step out and slam the door.
He got married.
Said I do to another woman.
Gage Perry has no right to be angry with me.
Sixteen
Gage
Telling Lauren about Missy was a mistake.
Her too-many-questions road-trip game defrosted my defenses. My admission clipped out before I knew I’d even been thawed. Lauren is notorious for bringing my every thought out into the light, but she’ll never know everything.
That shit is going with me to the grave.
No one in Blue Beech but my father will ever know. That nightmare will stay in Chicago.
The story made local headlines but never went national. Missy grew up in a family with politicians hitting every branch in the tree. Their pockets were full of old money, and they were experts in writing checks to fix any blemishes on their reputations. They could erase any word in an article with the click of a pen, forming the dollar sign.
That was the first and only time I was grateful for their pocketbooks. The thought of his picture being dissected and on display for the world to see would’ve ruined me. From the first time I found him outside the station, I made it my job to protect him but failed miserably.
I sink my fingers into the leather of my steering wheel.
Moving here was my solution to take me away from the memories of hell.
Chicago was nothing but a reminder of what I’d lost.
“Dude, what’s up your ass?” Kyle asks, sliding into the passenger seat of our cruiser. “I told you this would happen. You bring the devil into your home; it’ll turn into hell. You know, that’s why her last building went up in flames … because she’s an evil demon.”
“It’s too early to listen to your shit,” I mutter.
The thirty-minute drive back into town had given me time to clear my head before going to work. I went home, showered, and skipped breakfast with my dad. He would’ve known something was wrong.
Swear to God, he and Lauren are better at reading me than I am myself.
Kyle takes a sip of coffee and sets it in the cupholder. “Dinner at Mom’s tonight. Be there at seven.”
“Can’t,” I answer.
“You can, and you will. You know how I feel about people bailing on my mother.”
Not a lie. Kyle will throw down with anyone to defend her.
“I have to pick Lauren up from the hospital after her shift.”
No doubt he’ll find amusement in that.
“You her chauffeur now, too? Driving Miss Demon?”
“Her car broke down this morning. She needed a ride.”
His green eyes light up in amusement. “Bring her with you.”
I glance over at him before pulling out of his driveway, seconds passing, to verify he’s the one in the car with me.
I snort when I realize he’s not kidding. “That’s a big fuck no.”
“It’s my mom’s birthday dinner, bro, and she’s been asking about you nonstop since you moved back. You’ve been blowing off every invitation since you’ve been home. Not cool.”
Damn, I feel like an asshole.
He’s not lying. I haven’t done much of anything, except work and hang out with my dad.
“I’ll drop Lauren off and then be there. That cool?”
“Not so fast. You opened up the can of worms. Bring her with you. I want to see with my own two eyes that you’re over her. Prove it to me.”
“And I want to kick your ass sometimes, but it doesn’t mean it’ll happen.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I take that back. You keep talking shit about Lauren and me getting back together, and I’mma end up kicking your ass.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Kyle mutters, fishing his phone from his pocket before hitting a name and pressing it to his ear. “Hey, Ma. I’m with Gage.” He pauses. “Yes, I invited him, but he declined.” Another pause, and he shoves the phone into my chest.
“Gage, honey,” Nancy says
over the phone when I grab it. “Please come. Growing up, you were like another son to me, and I’d love to see you.”
“Trust me,” I say around a sigh, “I’d love to see you, but I wouldn’t be able to make it until after eight. That’s a long holdup for dinner.”
“No holdup whatsoever,” she replies in her sweet Southern voice. “I’ve been a night owl since retiring. I eat late.”
“All right then. I have to pick up a friend from work, and then I’ll be there.”
“The friend is Lauren!” Kyle yells in the background and grunts when I press my fist into his stomach.
“Lauren Barnes?” Nancy asks. “I haven’t spent time with that nice girl since my son shunned me from talking to her. I’d love to catch up with the both of you. See you tonight!”
The line goes dead.
I throw the phone into Kyle’s lap.
“I can’t wait for this shit,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “It’ll be the best excitement I’ve had—aside from your arresting her.”
“Remind me to file a request for a new partner,” I mutter.
Lauren is going to flip her shit when she finds out about this.
Seventeen
Lauren
Jay walks in and leans against the break-room door, arms crossed, while I grab my bag from a locker. “Alec requests a full report on tonight’s festivities with your ex-lover boy.”
During our lunch break, I spilled the dilemma with my new roommate situation, and it’s no surprise that he went and tattled to his hubby. Not that I can blame him. I would’ve done the same thing … if I had a husband.
I let down my ponytail and brush my fingers through the strands. “There will be no story.”
He grins, his bright white teeth on display. “You’re rooming with your ex. There will never be a lack of a story.”
“We’re not rooming together. It’s more like neighbors. I’m going home alone, eating canned soup, showering, and then hopping my tired butt into bed. Nothing exciting about that.”
He steps away from the door and pats my arm. “Keep telling yourself that, love.”
Trust me, I do.
“Have a good night, Jay,” I sing out, throwing my bag over my shoulder.
He laughs. “And you have an even better one. Get laid! You deserve it for all your hard work!”
There’s a text from Gage when I power my phone on that says he’s in the parking lot and to let him know when I’m walking out. I reply, and he pulls up to the automatic doors as soon as I make it out.
In the back of my mind, I had wondered if he’d bail on picking me up. During every break, I checked my phone, waiting for him to tell me to call a cab, considering our ride this morning had been cringe-worthy. Tonight’s goal is to make it bearable.
No ex-wife talk.
No past talk.
No breakup talk.
The weather and why NSYNC broke up will be the only conversations happening tonight, ladies and gents.
The masculine smell of aftershave and peppermint hits me when I slide into the truck.
“Long day?” he asks as I settle myself into the leather seat.
His midnight-dark hair is covered with a blue baseball cap, cloaking his forehead and showing me only a sliver of his hooded eyes. The thin white V-neck tee he’s wearing shows off the tan and muscular arms that wrapped around me like a security blanket last night. Guys in V-necks are right there underneath guys with huge cocks in the What I Lust For list. He also looks as tired as I feel.
“You have no idea,” I answer, strapping my seat belt on as he exits the parking lot. I thought I’d seen everything until I worked in the ER. “I appreciate the ride. Hudson said he’d have my car towed to the shop tomorrow to take a look at it.”
My grandfather started Barnes Machinery and Equipment decades ago. When he retired, my father took it over, and now, my brothers are in charge. They specialize in fixing large machinery and typically don’t take on pink Mustangs, but they’re making an exception for their sister.
“I’ll do it,” Gage answers. “I hoped I’d have a second to look at it today but got caught up in some shit.”
We are not friends. We cannot try to be friends.
Our trying to be friends would only produce more scars when he asks for what I can’t give him.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “It’s my problem, not yours.” My words burst out more harshly than I intended.
“I take it, you’re still pissed at me?”
No. Yes.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t, though I have no right to be.”
Today’s shift was spent working and digesting the truth bomb Gage had thrown on my breakfast plate this morning. My rationality finally returned three hours ago. I’m not too proud to admit when I’m wrong, and it wasn’t fair for me to be angry … or jealous.
I gave him the opportunity to fall in love with another woman, the green light to marry another woman, and I have no one to blame for my anger besides myself. I’ve dated and slept with other men since we’ve been apart, and my fear of commitment with someone else doesn’t mean he had to do the same.
“I appreciate the honesty,” he answers, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.
Silence passes, and the only noise cutting through the awkwardness is the faint sound of the radio. I stare out the window but steal glances at him every few seconds, hoping he doesn’t notice my taking in the way he bites into his lower lip when he’s holding himself back from saying something he shouldn’t.
He’s done that for years. I’ve read him and picked up on his quirks, and I consider myself a specialist in body language. At this moment, I’m sure his lack of sharing whatever he’s thinking is for the best.
I’m wondering how to move this conversation to my love of Justin Timberlake when he interrupts my thoughts by clearing his throat.
“By the way, you won’t be thanking me for the ride when we make it back to town.”
“Why’s that? You planning on killing me and throwing my body in the woods?”
“Nancy invited me to dinner tonight,” he answers. He presses his teeth to his lips again.
“Cool. Word on the street is, she makes a killer roast.”
“You’re about to find out for yourself.”
“Such a sweet man to bring me leftovers.”
“Let me correct myself. Nancy invited us to dinner. My mistake for the miscommunication, Dyson.”
“Did you tell Nancy there was no us to invite?” My stomach growls, like it’s fighting for its right to be pro-dinner at Nancy’s. It wants something better than SpaghettiOs. I pout out my lip. “Leftovers will be both accepted and appreciated though.”
“Have you eaten?”
“I managed to chow down a sandwich and an apple during one break. The other breaks were filled with chugging down coffee, so I wouldn’t give a patient Viagra instead of antibiotics.”
He cocks his head to the side. “That happened before?”
I shake my head. “Nope, thanks in large part to coffee.”
“Doubt that’s why. You know how to do your job. You’ve wanted to be a nurse for as long as I can remember.”
His mother is the reason I became a nurse. Melody worked in the same ER years ago, and I’d sit at their kitchen table for hours, listening to her tell story after story while I threw millions of questions her way. Her passing away from congestive heart failure at forty only strengthened my passion. I wanted to pursue this career path in her memory.
He grabs his phone from the console when it rings and answers the call. “Yes, I picked her up, and we’re on our way. I don’t have to reply to your ungodly number of text messages for check-ins.” He chuckles and sneaks a look my way. “I’ll be sure to divulge that you can’t wait to see your favorite person.”
Oh, hell. He wasn’t joking about dinner.
“Not happening,” I tell him when he hangs up. “Call your pain-in-my-ass partner back and tell him
I won’t be in attendance.” I squish my face together in a smug smile. “I wish y’all a happy dinner though.”
He’s still chuckling, and though it’s directed at me, it feels good to hear laughter coming from someone who regularly looks like he has a stick up his ass. “I promise I did my best to stop it.”
“You’re a grown-ass man, and the last time I saw you naked, you had balls. Tell them no.”
He smirks. “Balls are still intact, FYI. I can show you, if it helps.”
“Nice to know. No need for evidence.”
“I can’t bail on Nancy,” he says, blowing out a long breath. “It’s her birthday, and she’s excited we’re coming. And Kyle obviously is, as well.” He smirks again, unable to hide it at the mention of his best friend and Blue Beech’s biggest asshole to me.
Kyle will taunt me all night. His invite isn’t genuine. It is an excuse to drag me through hell.
“The last time I talked to Kyle, he gave me a ticket for a broken taillight and said he’d hate me until he took his last breath for running you out of town. I don’t trust the fool around my food. He’ll be topping off my drink with antifreeze.”
“Chill, Dyson. He won’t poison your roast.” He shakes his head as I give him my best death stare. “How about this? You come, and I won’t make you pay rent this month.”
“Your way of convincing me to hang out with you is free rent? What am I? Vivian in Pretty Woman?”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Is there a better way to say it?”
“It’s different. Dude got laid in that movie. Doubt our night will end up with me screwing you on an expensive-ass piano.”
“Don’t hold your breath on that happening. You’re a married man.” Yep, my selfish ass still can’t let that go.
“I’m a divorced man, sweetheart. We were married for five years, three of which were hell.”
Five years?
His marriage wasn’t a temporary thing or a favor. You can’t be with someone for half of a decade and not have feelings for them. It just doesn’t happen.
“Doesn’t matter if it was for a day. You can’t keep throwing the I ruined your life bullshit in my face. You found love. You had a wife.” I throw my arms up. “Hell, you might have kids. Any Gage Juniors running around that I should know about?”
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