Just Exes

by Charity Ferrell

The rational part of me knows this is what he needs even though the irrational half told me to stop him. No matter the outcome, whatever happens with Missy won’t be easy. I only hope it clears things up for him. There’s no doubt he feels guilt over entrusting Andy in the hands of the woman who killed him.

  “Bitch-face, murderer Missy?” he asks.

  “The one and only.”

  “You should’ve gone with him and beat her ass.”

  “I think suggesting violence is against the police code of ethics,” I say around a laugh. “Although, trust me, there’s nothing I would’ve loved more than that.” I’d have been nice about it. Punch her and then, given my professionalism, stitched her up and sent her back to her cell.

  “I like you at his side. You’ve moved yourself up two notches on the devil board.”

  “Any updates?” I ask Luke, walking into his living room after my shower with a cup of tea in my hand.

  At first, I thought being alone with him would be weird, but he’s done nothing but make me feel welcome.

  No one has heard from or seen Gage.

  Willow sent me a link to countless news articles. The media is having a field day with Andy’s story, and Missy was a trending topic on Twitter this morning—#MonsterMissy.

  Pictures of them are flooding the internet. Everyone wants justice for Andy, and I’m nervous about how Gage will handle all this attention.

  “Sorry,” he answers, shaking his head. He snags his beer from the coffee table and falls back against the cushions, stress lining his dark features. “My friend works for the prosecutor’s office, and according to him, Missy admitted to everything during her visit with Gage and gave him the answers he had been looking for.”

  I frown. “As bad as the situation is, I’m glad he got what he had gone there for.”

  He shakes his head and whistles. “The fucked up part is what Gage had to do to convince her to admit everything.”

  “What do you mean?” My legs feel weak, and I sink down in a chair before I lose my strength to hold myself up. Whatever is coming isn’t good news.

  “She insisted he declare his love for her—repeatedly—and that he promise to leave you.”

  My heart sinks. “What?” I stutter out. “Are … are you serious?”

  He sees the shock and terror on my face. “Lauren, he won’t go through with it. He said what he needed to say. I only wanted to give you a heads-up in case you hear it from someone else who’s not Gage and who doesn’t know the entire story.”

  “Wow,” I draw out.

  He wouldn’t for real do that, would he?

  No way.

  “That’s the best word to describe it.”

  “No, I think fucked up is better,” I say.

  He leans forward to tap his beer against my cup. “Looks like we’ve found a winner.”

  I rise from my seat and yawn. “I’m going to attempt to get some sleep. Let me know if you hear from him, okay?”

  He tilts his head forward. “Of course, and same goes for you. Good night, Lauren.”

  “Good night.”

  I can’t sleep.

  I’ve tossed, turned, and checked my phone dozens of times.

  Still no word from Gage.

  My pulse races when the bedroom door opens, and a silhouette of a body moves through the darkness. I blink, adjusting my eyes, and watch him shed his tee. The moonlight shining through the blinds gives me a glimpse of his chest. He hastily shoves his jeans down and slides into bed, wearing only his boxer briefs.

  I flip around to look at him. “Jesus, Gage, where have you been? You had me worried sick.”

  I sound like my mother.

  Is this what it feels like, worrying about someone you love so much that you lose sleep?

  He clears his throat, but his voice is still hoarse when he answers, “The lake. I had to apologize.” His body shakes when I reach out to touch him and caress his shoulder. “Sorry I’ve been MIA. I needed time.”

  “No, I understand,” I say.

  His skin is warm as I slide my hand from his shoulder to his cheek, wiping away his tears.

  I shiver when his hand swoops underneath my T-shirt, and he brushes a thumb against my nipple.

  “I love it when you wear my tees,” he whispers.

  “You’ve mentioned that once or twice.”

  I move away to pull it off, but he stops me.

  “Leave it. I want to make love to you while you wear nothing but it.”

  I moan when he rolls on top of me. He pulls my panties and shorts down and slowly slides his cock between my legs.

  His lips go to my ear. “I love you.”

  “I’m sorry. I tried, but no one could take your shift without hitting too much overtime, and you know how the hospital looks at that,” Natasha tells me over the phone. “All I could manage was one more day.”

  “I understand,” I say around a sigh. “I appreciate your trying.”

  I never call in sick. Never. Not only am I addicted to my job, but they also need me. Even though it’s a small hospital, it stays busy. Normally, I don’t have a problem with that, but Gage needs my support. This sucks.

  I didn’t question him about his meeting with Missy. He has no idea I know what she made him promise. There’s no doubt in my mind that Gage loves me and wouldn’t walk away from our love. I trust him.

  Now, after the hell of a day he’s had, I have to break this news to him. I stroll into the bathroom after hanging up and wrap my arms around his waist from behind while he dries off from his shower.

  “Bad news,” I say, pressing my lips against the damp skin of his back.

  “Words I’d be happy to never hear again,” he comments, reaching back to give my arm a gentle squeeze.

  “No one can cover me at work,” I say around a swallow.

  His shoulders stiffen. “When do you leave?”

  “By tomorrow.”

  My arms collapse when he turns around to face me, and I lose my breath when he tips my chin up with one finger.

  “Mind if I stay a few days?”

  “Stay as long as you need.”

  He cups my chin and brings my lips to his. “I’d better make this day count then.”

  I smile at his plan but hold my hand out to stop him. “You don’t need to worry about entertaining me. You’ve had a rough few days.”

  “Spending time with you will help keep my mind off everything.”

  “Tell me your plan.”

  “Chicago time with Gage Perry.”

  “I like the sound of that already.”

  It is a good idea, and I hate that it’s ruined when we walk out the front door. Cameras are in our faces.

  “Just ignore them,” Gage mutters, grabbing my hand.

  I tug on his arm. “Let’s go back inside.”

  “Gage!” a reporter yells. “Did you have anything to do with the disappearance of your son? There have been reports that you knew Missy planned on hurting him!”

  I freeze up and clench my fists, holding myself back from smacking the asshole.

  My chest aches, and I lose Gage’s hold when he darts toward the reporter.

  “The fuck did you say?” he screams.

  Regret fills the middle-aged man’s face. “I, uh …” He pushes his glasses up. “A source told us—off the record, of course—that you were aware that Missy was dangerous.”

  “Fuck your lying source,” Gage snarls. “I loved my son and would’ve never let Missy near him if she showed one sign of abuse. I came as soon as Missy left the voice mail but was too late.” He thrusts his finger in the man’s face. “Don’t come to me, hoping for a story that will make headlines. The only one you’ll receive is that Missy stole my son from me and ruined my life. There’s no need for you goddamn scavengers to throw it in my face.” He grabs my hand. “Don’t fucking follow us.”

  “Wow,” I say as we slip into Luke’s SUV.

  “This is what I was concerned about,” he grits out, his head falling agai
nst the steering wheel.

  Their cameras follow us as he backs out of the drive and turns down the road.

  There’s no doubt in my mind, that guy won’t be the only reporter we run into today.

  “Turn around,” I order.

  He glances over at me. “What?”

  “Turn around. We’ll order some deep-dish pizza and watch movies in bed all day.”

  A portion of the irritation drains from his face. “I like that idea.”

  Thirty-Seven

  Lauren

  Exhaustion is my middle name.

  It’s early in the morning when I pull into Gage’s driveway, and I yawn with each step going up the stairs to the loft before tiredly unlocking the door. I can’t wait to eat, take a quick nap, and then see Gage. His flight lands this afternoon, so I plan to catch some sleep and then pick him up with Amos.

  We’ve talked regularly since I came home five days ago, and he’s stayed strong. It helps that Luke is there with him, and he has the support from him and his coworkers. They held a memorial for Andy at the lake last night, and I’m sad I had to miss it.

  I drop my bag on the table and grab a bottle of water from the fridge at the same time there’s a knock on the door. Amos has been visiting me between my shifts and bringing me meals since I’ve been back. Now that our secret has come out, we’ve gotten closer.

  “It’s open!” I call out and snag another bottle for Amos.

  “Hello, Lauren.”

  My hands start to shake as I drop the bottles at the sound of his abrasive voice. I inhale three deep breaths before turning around to face him.

  “What are you doing here, Ronnie?”

  I pause to take him in. He reeks of alcohol, his button-up shirt is soaked in what looks like more liquor, and his eyes are bloodshot and swollen. One thing Ronnie isn’t is in the right frame of mind.

  “Have you been following me?” I stupidly accuse.

  The evil smirk on his face confirms not only that this is a stupid question, but also that something bad is about to happen. Instead of waiting for his response, I rush over to the knife block and miss my chance at grabbing one when he captures my waist. He swipes the block off the countertop with his free hand, and the sound of knives crashing to the floor masks my groans when he presses against me and shoves my face against the countertop.

  I cringe when his wet lips hit my ear and his thick body moves against mine.

  “Now, now, tenant,” he says mockingly, “why are you making trouble for me? I only wanted to be a good landlord and check that you were okay after the fire.”

  I bite into my lip to stop myself from crying out and struggle to reach for a candle, anything, to protect myself from him but am stopped when he grabs my arm and pushes it back. A deep pain shoots through me, and I freeze up.

  Don’t provoke him.

  “Ronnie,” I say as calmly as I can manage, “I was going for the bottle opener to offer you a beer.”

  He laughs behind me, and the smell of his breath nearly gives me a contact buzz. “I applaud you for not being as dumb as most women I have to punish, but I’m not falling for your tricks, bitch.” He twists my arm against my back, and I buck against him. “Keep doing that, sweetie. It’ll only make my dick harder.”

  I still while taking deep breaths.

  “Not so brave now that your little boyfriend isn’t with you,” he taunts, twisting an arm harder. “You know, no one would’ve questioned what happened in that apartment had you not been spreading your legs for cop boy.”

  I stop myself from crying out when he whips me around and pushes me against the counter, my back biting into the rough handle of the drawer. Nausea hits me when he spreads my legs and shifts himself between them.

  All I have to do is raise a knee.

  It has to be timed perfectly though.

  “He was only investigating the fire because you blamed me, Ronnie,” I grit out.

  He thrusts his hips against mine. “Shouldn’t have turned me down.”

  “Smartest decision I’ve made in my life.”

  My response only lights more rage inside him. I have to be smart about this. I nearly gag when I feel his hardness rub against my leg.

  “Ronnie, you need to leave before the police come,” I warn. “If you go now, no one will hear about this visit, okay?”

  He scoffs, “There’s a warrant out for my arrest, you dumb cunt. Either way, I’m going to jail.” He rolls his hips. “Might as well have some fun before I do.”

  I try to push him away, but he’s stronger than I am. “Please stop. You’ll regret this later.”

  “Trust me, I won’t regret this one bit. In fact, I’ll relish it forever.”

  He looks up and meets my gaze for the first time, and I can’t stop myself from spitting in his face. I’m a survivor, and I also take no shit. My head slams back against the cabinet when he smacks me across my face, and I taste blood on my lips.

  “Now, I’m really going to make you pay,” he says, taking a step back to unbuckle his jeans.

  I see this as my opportunity and slowly start to lift my knee up, hoping I get a good shot.

  We both stop and jump at the sound of Amos’s voice.

  “Hey, hey, you step away from her right now!” he screams, stalking into the room, moving as fast as he can with his tank behind him.

  Ronnie wipes my spit from his face. “What are you going to do, you old man?”

  Amos raises his hand. “I’m going to protect that woman until you kill me. Do you hear me?” He holds his phone up. “I also hit the emergency button on my phone, and the police will be here any minute.”

  Ronnie steps away from me and kicks Amos’s oxygen tank. I grab the candle I was going for and bust it over his head at the same time he punches Amos in the face. Ronnie falls. This is what some might call my stupid moment, but I disagree. Instead of making sure Ronnie is down, I rush over to Amos’s side as blood pours from his nose.

  The front door slamming catches my attention, and I rush down the stairs to catch Ronnie, but his expensive sports car is already flying down the street.

  I run back into the loft with disappointment and situate Amos on the couch and hold a towel to his nose.

  “What the fuck happened here?” Kyle shouts minutes later, appearing in the doorway. “Amos called with an emergency.”

  “Ronnie decided to pay me a visit,” I say, biting back tears.

  “Oh, fuck me!” Kyle yells. “That dumb junkie!”

  “Can we not tell Gage about this?” I ask Amos, standing up.

  His glassy eyes meet mine. “Last time we made a pact like that, you two didn’t talk to each other for nearly a decade.”

  “When it rains, it fucking pours,” I cry out.

  Thirty-Eight

  Gage

  I hit Lauren’s name while making my way through the airport.

  The call goes straight to voice mail.

  Seconds later, Kyle’s name flashes across my phone screen.

  “Hey, man,” I answer.

  We’ve briefly talked since I flew to Chicago. I want to tell him everything in person.

  “I have something to tell you, but promise you won’t freak out,” he says with caution.

  The fuck kind of statement is that?

  “Depends on what it is.”

  “There was a situation.”

  “What do you mean, situation?” I’ve had enough situations to last a lifetime.

  His breathing is heavy on the other end. “Ronnie … he, uh …”

  “The landlord?”

  “The landlord.”

  “What about the fucking landlord?” The volume of my voice grants me looks from people passing by.

  “The building fire was caused by him cooking drugs there.”

  How the fuck is that a situation for me?

  I’m happy it gives us the answer we were looking for and that people will stop giving Lauren a hard time.

  “Good. Lauren won’t be blamed fo
r that fire now.”

  “Too late. Ronnie blamed her for his getting busted and paid her a visit at your place.”

  My breathing falters, and I stop in place. “The fuck did you just say?”

  “He came to the loft and assaulted her. Thankfully, your dad walked in and fought him off. They’re both a little banged up, but everyone is fine.”

  “And the landlord? Is he in custody?”

  “Not yet, but we’re on it. Everything is fine. We’ll get him. I promise.”

  “Asshole touched my girl and my father, so no, everything is not fucking fine.” My jaw clenches. “And why am I just now hearing this?”

  “It happened only a few hours ago, and you were on a plane.”

  I speed-walk through the airport. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

  “Not smart to say, given you’re surrounded by people.”

  I raise my voice. “I. Am. Going. To. Kill. That. Motherfucker.”

  “Point taken.”

  “Where is she?” I snag my bag from the baggage claim, throw it over my shoulder, and sprint out of the building.

  “Her parents’. We offered to take her and your dad to the hospital, but Lauren fixed herself and your dad up, and they’re okay.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  I hang up on him and start looking for an open cab.

  A blue truck swerves into the pedestrian lane and stops next to me.

  “Get in,” Kyle yells through the open window.

  I shut the door behind me and meet his stare. “Motherfucker will pay for this.”

  The ride to town feels like it takes ages, and I jump out of Kyle’s truck as soon as we pull in front of Lauren’s parents’ house. I race through the front door to find Lauren and her family in the living room, and two fellow officers are standing in the hallway that leads to the kitchen.

  I rush over to Lauren and take her face in my hand, holding it back and inspecting it, searching for any marks. “Are you okay, baby?”

  Her cheek is bruised, her lips swollen, but other than that, she’s in one piece.