Текст книги "Can't Let Go"
Автор книги: Michelle Lynn
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
Sam: Coming in at twelve fifteen. Pick us up?
FUCK, THE LAST thing I want is to see Sam right now. But how on earth do I leave her and her parents at the airport? Damn Jessa for having this baby early. Grant was supposed to pick them up today, so they’d all be here this week when she had the baby. That’s another thing, how did I let it slip my mind that Sam was coming to town today? Chrissy, that’s how, I think to myself.
My truck pulls up by arrivals, and the Hamiltons are waiting at the curb with their luggage. I open my tailgate and Mr. Hamilton is the first to greet me.
“Thank you for picking us up, Dex,” Mr. Hamilton says, and I grab his bag from his hands, lifting it into the truck bed. Spotting my sweatshirt, a vision of Chrissy and I triggers to life.
“No problem,” I say, shaking my head to rid it of Chrissy.
“Tell me, how cute is my granddaughter?” Mrs. Hamilton joins shortly after, smiling widely.
“She’s pretty darn adorable,” I respond before she wraps her arms around my neck, squeezing me into a hug.
“Thank you, Dex,” she says, and I roll her suitcase over and shove it in the back alongside her husband’s.
“You’re welcome.” I reach in and move the bag with the blanket to make room for Sam’s. A light scent of Chrissy’s fruity smelling shampoo floats out and hits me square in the nostrils, flickering our almost kiss to the forefront of everything else. She and I with our backs against the window of the truck, her legs pressed against mine, and her hot breath tickling my neck.
“Dex!” Sam screams and jumps into my unexpected arms. I’m able to catch her at the last minute, and she crushes me with a tight hug.
“Hey, Sam,” I say, and when I place her feet back on the ground, Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton are smiling our way as though they enjoy seeing us together.
With her arms still around me, she moves her lips to my ear. “God I’m so wet, I want you now,” she whispers, and I hate to admit it, but I have to shift slightly due to the excitement she evokes with her words. Guilt rises in me.
I don’t respond, and she pushes back, her hands on my upper arms. Silently studying me for a few seconds and then she steps back and turns around. “Let’s go, I want to see my niece,” she hollers behind her, making her parents laugh.
The ride to the hospital is mostly Sam talking to Jessa on the phone and relaying all the information to their parents. Not sure why they have a need to do this now when we’re only forty-five minutes from Western. Sam doesn’t touch me or say much. It could be because her parents don’t know much about our relationship, or lack of one I should say. She takes it upon herself to change the radio station, though. From my usual rock to her current hit preference, which irritates me, but I chalk it up to Chrissy invading my brain.
We arrive at the hospital, and her parents eagerly walk in front of us as Sam eyes me a few times and then faces straight ahead. She bites the inside of her cheek in the elevator and stares up straight ahead, obviously something occupies her thoughts. When the sliding doors ding open, Jessa’s family rushes out, and I keep my distance a few feet back. Their excitement is apparent as her mom grips onto Jessa’s dad’s arm and Sam’s feet speed faster the closer we get.
Jessa’s laughter can be heard from down the hall, and her parents recognize it immediately, laughing to themselves at the sound of their daughter. We enter the room, which his already becoming filled with flowers and well wishes from friends and family. Jessa lies on the bed with her short dark hair pulled away in a clip, and Grant sits on the recliner, staring down at his daughter as she grips his pointer finger. Sadie is on the edge of the bed, until she spots Jessa’s family.
“Oh my god! Sorry, Grant, but give me her.” Sam rushes over and plops down right next to Grant, admiring her niece.
“Hi, Sam,” Jessa teases, and Sam playfully tosses her hand in her direction.
“My baby,” Mrs. Hamilton gushes over Jessa. Her hand smoothes over her daughter’s hair and kisses her on the cheek.
“Hi, Mom,” Jessa greets her, and Mr. Hamilton grips his daughter’s hand.
“You okay? Everything went well?” Her dad asks, and Jessa smiles, nodding.
“I’m great. She’s great,” she looks over at Grant and they share a smile, “we’re great,” she finishes, and the cheerful atmosphere is enough to make me puke.
I love Jessa and Grant, but I just want to go home. My phone is practically burning a hole into my pocket on whether to check up on Chrissy. I don’t even know if she had to go to work today or not. Regret that I should have taken the time to check in on her before leaving hasn’t left the whole morning.
While the Hamilton’s get introduced to their granddaughter and fight over who holds her first, I peruse the flower arrangements lining the windowsill. My head jolts back when I get a glimpse of the card on a very elaborate pink and white bouquet. It’s not the message, but the signature that grips my heart with a damn torque wrench; Love, Ryland and Chrissy. What the fuck is that? She’s worked there, what, two days and suddenly there’s a Ryland and Chrissy?
Completely flabbergasted, I leave the room to grab a hold of myself and somehow calm. Ryland and Chrissy repeats over and over in my head. My mind instantly shifts into overdrive thinking of other things with their names combined. Mr. and Mrs. Ryland Davis, Mrs. Chrissy Davis. My fist swings back and hits the hospital wall before I push off to get some air.
I’m in the waiting room, pacing back and forth along the length of the window that overlooks nothing but woods. What have I been doing with Chrissy? What does she want? Fuck, what do I want? Mid crazy thought, a peppy Sam bounces into the room and stops when she sees me. “There you are,” she says, and I stop pacing and stare at her. She really is beautiful with her dark long hair. Always perfectly curled with every stitch of make-up you can find at those department stores. Jewelry that matches her expensive outfits. I’m not even sure I’ve seen her wear the same pair of shoes twice.
“Hi,” I say, waving my hand in her direction.
“Hi,” she mimics me, even giving me the hand wave.
“I missed you,” she says, walking closer to me.
“You did?” I ask for clarification because I’m positive it’s only one part of me that she missed.
She jokingly pushes me against the wall and steps closer. Placing her hands on my face, she pulls it down so it’s within an inch or two of her face. “Didn’t you miss me?” she asks, and I nod unsure how to answer the question. I did until a week ago doesn’t seem right. I’m sure not what she imagined. “I’ve seen the baby, so why don’t you take me home.” She bites her bottom lip and seductively stares up at me.
“Don’t you want to spend more time with Adelaide?”
“We can come back afterwards. Hell, take me to your truck.” She presses on, her breasts brushing across my chest. Praying I would have worn a thicker t-shirt as her hand moves down along my body, and she grips my cock through my jeans.
“Shit, Sam. What are you trying to do?”
She looks around the room, noticing it’s empty. Eyeing the bathroom, she grabs my hand, tugging me forward. Before I fully gather what’s happening, I’m pinned against the bathroom wall, and I hear the lock click. This would have been my biggest fantasy, and Sam’s only worry right now would have been getting her hands dirty from being pressed against the bathroom floor.
“Sam,” I sigh as her lips raise to mine. As much as my body is responding to her—damn, my dick’s already bulging in my pants—there’s no way I can go through with this when Chrissy’s here.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” She backs up, finally questioning me. “We’ve done it in a bathroom before. Remember that airport in Denver?”
“Your sister just had her baby. Come on, Sam.” I plead the family card, and she narrows her eyes at me.
“Are you going soft on me, Dex? Trying to romance me? You know I don’t need that,” she counters.
Unable to figure an excuse out, I grab her hands in mine. “Can we please just wait until later?” I ask, and she raises her eyebrows at me.
“Okay … you have until tonight.” She takes her finger, and it travels down my chest. Gripping my waistband, she tugs me forward. “You better be worth my wait,” she says, and I chuckle uncomfortably.
Sam still amazes me with how similar we are. Both wanting the easy lay with no attachments or strings. If that’s true, why didn’t I just take her in the bathroom? Except for not having a condom with me, but knowing Sam, she probably has her own. I watch her ass sway back and forth as she walks ahead of me back to Jessa’s room. My head’s so fucked up right now. What do I really owe Chrissy? Nothing. It’s not like she’s trying to track me down to talk. Or that she had the decency to stay in the bed this morning.
I relax in the seat, giving Grant shit about being up all night and his party days gone. He only smiles and gazes at Jessa, who’s displaying the same cheesy smile. Sam hovers over her parents, desperate to have her turn at holding the baby while Jessa wolfs down her first meal in hours.
Being the Hamilton’s chauffeur, I sit back and thumb through a Sports Illustrated magazine, biding my time until they’re ready to leave. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a shadow of someone in the doorway. Shifting my vision, my heart drops when I find Chrissy with none other than Ryland Davis. Chrissy’s eyes dart away from mine to Jessa while a very suave Ryland enters the room right behind her.
“Chrissy.” Sadie welcomes her and stands up from her seat. “Hi, Ryland,” she welcomes him.
“Hi, Sadie.” He walks over to Jessa and gives her a small kiss on her cheek. “Congratulations.” Reaching across, he places his hand in front of Grant, who proudly smiles and shakes it.
“Thank you, Ryland,” Grant says. “Thank you for the flowers, too,” he continues, and Ryland points to Chrissy.
“Chrissy picked them out.” His lips turn up toward Chrissy, and I’m confused on the whole couple thing going on between them.
“Ryland,” she flirtatiously lets out a breath and then walks over to peer at the baby. “She’s beautiful, like I knew she would be,” she remarks, and Grant sits on the bed next to Jessa, pulling his wife into him.
“Oh, Ryland and Chrissy, these are my parents and my sister.” Jessa introduces them, and pleasantries are exchanged between them. As though I’m invisible, no one even acknowledges me, until Ryland turns around.
“Hi, I’m Ryland Davis.” He sticks his hand out to me, and I want to spit in mine before shaking it.
“Dex.” I give a lift with my head.
Fifteen uncomfortable minutes pass by before Ryland looks at Chrissy. “Ready?” he asks her. What? Are they on some date that I have no idea about?
“Yeah, I should probably get home,” she tells everyone. “Congratulations, again.”
She glances at Sam, who’s only focus is Adelaide in her arms and then her dejected eyes turn to me. “See you later, Dex,” she says with a soft voice. A wave of guilt flows through me like a freight train. Sam’s eyes perk up, maybe sensing the tension between us and then she’s back to concentrating on Adelaide.
Sadie decides to hitch a ride with them, so she urgently packs up her stuff, says goodbye and leaves with the two of them. Satisfaction that they won’t be alone now to do anything inappropriate brings relief to me.
An hour later, I leave with the Hamiltons. Mr. Hamilton insists on buying me dinner and then I drop them back at Grant and Jessa’s while Sam stays planted in the front seat of my truck, informing them she’s staying at my house until Jessa is discharged. After a warning look from her dad and a smile from her mother, we pull away from the curb, leaving them at the Bishops’ house.
Sam leans over to me and rests her hand on my thigh as I concentrate on the road ahead of me. Placing my hand down, I link mine with hers. I wish that excited tingling sensation occurred with our touch, but nothing happens. We drive the short distance between the two houses. I grab Sam’s bag from the bed of the truck once we park in the driveway behind Brady’s Camaro. Rob’s in the garage working on Chrissy’s car like usual when walk toward the back door.
“Hi, Rob.” Sam flips him off, and he laughs. With the bad breakup between Jess and Rob, and Sam being Jessa’s sister, their relationship—well there isn’t one.
“Sam.” He nods and then eyes me; question marks could be burned into his eyeballs as to why Sam is with me.
“Is that your piece of shit?” she asks, and he cocks an eyebrow at me.
“No,” he remarks, not divulging anything further.
“Girlfriend’s?” she continues to question.
“Maybe,” he shrugs, and I squint my eyes at him, but he laughs it off. “I’m just waiting for someone to open their eyes.” I release a huff of breath at his comment, making Sam turn to me.
“Well … fuck off,” she says to him and heads for the door. Rob shakes his head at me before grabbing a rag and wiping his hands. Ignoring him, I follow Sam’s path because the guilt of my actions are only growing more intense with Rob.
Sadie is stirring a pot of sauce that’s on the stove when we walk in the house, and Brady’s typing away on his computer. They both glance over and Sadie’s spoon stops circling and Brady’s fingers hover over the keyboard before they look at one another. “Hi, Brady,” Sam says, walking over and bending to wrap her arms around his shoulders.
“Hi ya, Sam,” he replies and hugs her back while eyeing me over her shoulder.
“Are you guys hungry?” Sadie turns and concentrates on the spoon, facing away from us while asking the question.
“No, we had dinner with my parents,” Sam says. “Now I want my dessert.” She giggles, but no one says anything or chimes in. “Man, what has happened to all of you?”
“Sorry. I’m tired.” Sadie talks first.
“Long day,” Brady adds.
“Let’s go,” Sam poises her head to the hallway and begins walking to the front of the house. I hear the back screen door open and slam shut when we get to the staircase. I don’t have to assume who just entered or the talk of the gossip in the kitchen.
We’re about to reach the top of the stairs when Chrissy’s bedroom door opens. She emerges and then stops, standing still outside her door. She’s dressed in her tight yoga pants with a tank top showing the lines of her curves and breasts for everyone to admire. Her hair is pinned to the top of her head in a messy ponytail. I love it when she’s dressed down, unwinding from the day. It only makes me want to yank her toward me and wrap my arms around her body.
“Hi, Chrissy.” Sam’s head inches back from the surprise of seeing her.
“Hi … Sam,” Chrissy stutters, just as taken aback as Sam. “Dex.” She says my name, but her eyes remain anywhere but on me.
All three of us stand there in silence until Chrissy speaks. “Well,” she inhales a deep breath, “have a good night,” she finishes, and walks past us. Her shoulder brushes along mine and I instinctively close my eyes from our touch.
Sam turns around to me and shrugs her shoulders, continuing her goal toward my bedroom. The guilt starts inside me again, churning over and over. Mindlessly, I enter my room and Sam’s already splayed across my bed within one second of us entering. “You promised,” she winks, and I plaster myself against my closed bedroom door, as though my hands are glued to it.
Fuck this, I think to myself. Chrissy left me back at that fair four years ago. She does everything to stay away from me and here, on my bed, is a girl who tells me. A girl not afraid to show me what she wants. Walking toward Sam, a slow smile forms on her lips, figuring she’s getting what she’s been waiting for. Her hands reach for the hem of her shirt, inching it up her body. I remind myself, this is the guy I am. A one night at a time with no commitment guy. But if that’s true, then how come every night it’s Chrissy that occupies my dreams? Her that I want on my bed, begging me to take her.
THE SMELL OF her expensive perfume overtakes my nostrils as soon as I leave the confines of my bedroom. She’s gorgeous, even after a plane ride and a day at the hospital. No wonder Dex likes her so much. The awkwardness encompasses the entire second floor so I flee as soon as I spot an opening. It’s clear Sam has no idea who I am, but that’s okay. What was Dex to say?
The problem is my insides are slowly crumbling as I push the hardened shell of an exterior to keep others from realizing how much seeing him with someone else affects me, especially after last night. Maybe he doesn’t remember, maybe he was that drunk and thought I was someone else. Maybe even her.
Walking past Sadie and Brady in the kitchen, I give a wave over my shoulder when they each call out to me. Heading right to Rob, I plop down on the chair beside my car, open his cooler, and grab a beer. Twisting the cap and tossing it in the trashcan, I allow the entire bottle of cool liquid to flow down my throat and hopefully calm my sadness.
“Whoa there,” he comments, sliding out from under my piece of shit car.
“I don’t have work tomorrow,” I mention, as though that’s a reason to get hammered. When I first got home, I figured I’d lie around and maybe watch a movie. How fast things changed.
“Do you need to go out?” he asks and leans against the edge of the garage, crossing his arms against his chest.
“Yeah, but I really don’t want to enter that house again to change.” I glance down at my very casual outfit.
“Let’s go. Just give me a second to grab my keys.” He jogs over to the screen door and enters the house. With his departure, I ponder if I should go or not. Dex’s clear jealously of my friendship with Rob is evident with the mere casualness of his name from my lips. Then visions of Dex slamming Sam against his bedroom door overtake and I can give a shit what he thinks.
Not a second later, Sadie emerges. “Chrissy?” she questions, and I shake my head because if I talk to her about this, I’ll break.
“I’m going out with Rob for a bit,” I tell her, and her hand rests on my arm, igniting the start of a stumbled breath.
“Stay, we can talk,” she says, concern laced in her eyes.
“I appreciate it, Sadie, but I just can’t be here.” I don’t move my arm, and she doesn’t remove her hand.
“Chrissy, they’re—”
“It’s fine, Sadie, really. I want to unwind.” I’ve never wanted to escape Sadie more than at this moment.
She doesn’t know what happened last night. How close Dex and I came to changing our relationship forever.
Rob jumps off the steps and disengages Sadie. “I got this one, Sadie, go spend some quality time with Brady,” he jokes and grabs my hand, leading me to his Mustang. Over my shoulder, I glance at a very anxiety-ridden Sadie, biting her lip and watching us leave. Rob’s a complete gentleman, opening the door and shutting it behind me. He jogs in front of the car and slides in next to me. For the first time, I wish all of those feelings for Dex would transfer to Rob. “Are you a risk taker?” he asks, and, although I usually run on the side of caution, tonight I want to be someone different.
“Uh huh,” I answer. He smirks and his muffler roars to life, peeling out of the driveway.
Linkin Park, Papa Roach, Soundgarden, and a varied array of rock music carries the conversation on the way to wherever he’s taking me. The same music as Dex listens to usually, so I’m familiar with the majority of the bands. I remember when we were younger, he’d tell me a song he really liked, and I’d listen to it over and over again, allowing me to feel closer to him in a way.
A half hour passes, and we pull into a drive with a sign reading, Paintball. I scrunch my forehead at him, and he laughs. “It’s great for letting out stress.”
“I thought it was done in the woods during the day? In case you didn’t notice your headlights were on when you drove here,” I point out, and he turns off the engine and gets out of the car without a response.
I open my own door and exit the car while Rob waits at the front of the car for me. “It’s inside a warehouse. They’re open late.” He walks me in, and a guy, who appears like he hasn’t showered in a week or so, welcomes him by name then eyes me.
“Brought someone with you?” he asks, his eyes roaming up and down my body.
“This is Chrissy, and she needs to have fun.” He claps me on the back, making my body stumble forward. I give the guy a tight smile, and he starts grabbing things from the shelves.
Ten minutes later, I’m fitted with a suit, a gun, and little colorful balls to shoot at people. Rob laughs when he notices me look at the goggles with trepidation. I place them over my head, resting them on my forehead. “You’re not going to protect your eyes like that.” He points to my goggles, and I giggle.
“Don’t worry about me,” I kid, making him smile.
We both make our way over to the entry area, that’s occupied with a bunch of high school kids geared up and egging each other on. When they spot us, a few laugh to themselves while obviously the most outspoken one sets his attention on Rob. “You brought your girlfriend?” he huffs, and I’m holding a laugh inside because he has no idea who he’s messing with.
“I bet she can shoot better than your ass.”
“I can guarantee you she’ll be the first one out.” I stay silent, and Rob should too. I’ve never even shot a Nerf gun, so I’m pretty sure the cocky kid is accurate in his assessment. I’ll be on the sidelines most of this game.
“Okaaayyy.” Rob draws the word out nice and slow, appearing cool and calm. “If she stays in longer than you, I want your gun,” he wagers, and I pull on Rob’s sleeve, but he only looks down at me briefly before back to the kid.
“What do I get when she’s walking to the sidelines a second after the horn?”
“I’ll buy you an equivalent at the shop out front.” Rob finalizes the bet, and, while everyone is getting ready, I pull him aside.
“Are you nuts? There’s no way I can beat that kid. He must come here every weekend. Look at his gear, his friends stuff. I’m standing here with a gun that will probably jam in two seconds while he’s got reserves of balls strapped to his belt.”
Rob’s boisterous laugh brings us attention but they turn away. “All you have to do is get him first. Stay by my side, and I’ll guarantee it.” He places his hand on my shoulder, and somehow self-confidence washes over me that maybe I can do it. “The kid is cocky and arrogant. Traits I know too well. When you’re in high school though, those too sure of themselves guys don’t think everything through, they just react. We got this, Chris, don’t worry,” he tells me, and the fact he called me Chris has me trusting him. Not many people refer to me by that name. My mind wanders to thinking about Dex, who was the first to shorten my name, and how I hated it at first because it sounded like a boy’s name. It clarified that that’s how Dex saw me … as though I was just another friend, like the abundance of boys he hung around with. “You still with me?” Rob asks, and I nod as my head continues to swim in the thoughts of Dex.
A few minutes later, the same guy that got us fitted, climbs up on top of a perch with a microphone in his hand. “You all ready?” The boys all scream, some even make ear-screeching animal sounds. One acting out, fisting his chest like an ape. Oh, to be young again. Soon, everyone quiets and the man begins his instructions. “You have two minutes to find your spot, but when the horn blows, firing can begin. You get shot, you immediately need to exit through the doors. Everyone got it?” Once again, the high school boys scream their affirmations. Rob and the guy share a smirk, and then Rob’s grabbing my hand and tugging me into the warehouse situated with wooden barriers. We hide behind a plywood partition, and Rob places his finger over his lips, like I wouldn’t figure out we need to be quiet. The horn blows, and the scrambling of bodies ping around us in every direction.
While Rob’s intent on watching from around the edge, my eyes dart in the direction of every noise with my gun poised out in front of me. I don’t even know if I’d have the nerve to shoot or not if I had the opportunity. He hits me on the shin, so that I crouch down similar to him. “Rob,” I whisper, and he firmly shakes his head, bringing his hand around my waist, forcing me to crouch down in front of him. He steadies my shaking gun and positions it to face forward. The cocky ass rolls from shield to shield in an attempt to find us … or rather, me.
Suddenly, I muster all my courage, and when he runs to slide behind another obstacle, I shoot, knocking me back in Rob’s chest from the force of the gun. Rob nudges me forward, and when I peer over the side of the plywood, the kid’s swearing up a storm. “Mother fucker,” he exclaims, and Rob uncontrollably laughs.
“Way to go, Rambo,” he compliments me. “Now you’re on your own.” He sprints across the concrete and hides behind a set of tires.
When I’d hear about paintball or watch people playing it on television, I thought it looked pointless, but I loved every aspect of it; the hiding, the sneaking up, the shooting. What kind of person does that make me? The worst part was when I did finally get shot, it was so gut-clenching painful that I’ll never participate in paintball again.
Sitting on the sideline bench, I watch the boys and Rob finding and shooting one another. Rob fails to be the winner, but he comes close. When he walks off the play course toward me, the cocky kid hands Rob his gun. “I don’t want it,” Rob tells him quickly, placing his hand on the gun and pushing it away. “But taper down your arrogance a bit, okay? Trust me when I say no one likes an asshole.” He doesn’t wait for a response, but smirks on his way over to me. “Now we eat,” he instructs, ushering me off the bench with his hand.
Rob drives us to a diner off the freeway that’s open late at night. Once we’re seated in a booth in the corner with the small jukebox that maybe worked back in the day pushed against the window, I begin thanking him for occupying my mind tonight.
“Seriously, Rob, that was awesome. Other than the getting shot part,” I continue, rubbing my arm where one of those pricks got me. “Thank you.”
“It takes a while to get used to it. I mean, it always hurts like a mother fucker, but you know what to expect.” We’re interrupted when the waitress comes over.
“Hey, Rob.” She greets him by name and then her eyes veer to me. “Do you guys need menus?”
“I don’t, but she might.” He points over at me, and I shake my head. Figuring it’s a diner, I can assume what they serve and what I’ll order. “I guess we’re ready, Jackie,” he informs her, and I feel as though I should be introduced, since they’re on first name bases with one another.
Rob orders a Reuben sandwich, and I order a hamburger. We sit and wait while the food is prepared, neither of us talking about anything of consequence. My mind drifts back to Dex and him inside of Sam at the moment. The image of his sweating body slipping along hers while he thrusts in and out burns my thoughts. Her screams of ecstasy and him groaning, practically a soundtrack in my ears. There’s no way I’ll ever be able to sleep in my room with the two of them next door. My only hope is she vanishes somewhere else tonight, but even I know there’s a slim chance of that.
We eat our meals, talking mostly about Rob’s last tour and music. He never asks me about Dex, and I try not to bring his name up. I’m not oblivious that the guy sitting across from me knows more about the Dex Prescott of the last four years than I do. Is Dex’s bedroom a revolving door of girls? Did he ever have a serious relationship? I don’t even know if I want those details to be embedded in my mind to obsess about over and over again. Especially, since Sam has been enough to occupy most of my thoughts so far.
Later, when we return home and walk through the backdoor, I’m thankful Rob was able to distract me for a few hours. But as soon as we left the diner, my stomach tightened with the thought of Dex and Sam together. I almost asked Rob to trade bedrooms with me for the night for the assurance of silence.
The whole house is dark except for a light flickering in the living room. Sadie and Brady and their late night movies. I stop Rob in the kitchen because I want to be alone when I thank him. In the past week, I’ve noticed Rob puts up a show in front of others, and I want us both to be genuine in this moment. I have no idea what he did in the past, but in my opinion, he’s selfless and put my needs before his own tonight.
“Thank you, Rob.” I inch up so that my lips can reach his cheek.
“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, and then I wrap my arms around his neck. Pressing myself against him, he in turn places his hands on my hips and we hug one another.
“You should let people see this side of you,” I whisper softly, and his body jiggles from a small laugh.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he says. “Can’t let my image be tainted.” I laugh.
There in the kitchen, with only the glow of a light from the living room streaming in, I figured out why Jessa ever dated Rob in the first place. Behind that asshole shield is a caring guy who sees things around him others don’t. I assume he might have known from our first meeting that Dex holds a place inside my heart.
Lights flick on, and I squint to see the person responsible for it. When I push away from Rob, my eyes find Dex standing in the doorway, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling with both hands gripping the sides of the frame. “What the fuck is going on here?”
“Nothing,” I say and touch Rob’s forearm, staring up at him with appreciation. Not able to look at Dex, I begin to leave the confines of the kitchen when Dex grabs my wrist.
“Chrissy?” He cocks his head to the side in a give me a break, you were about to fuck him act.
“You think you have a say in who I go out with?” I defiantly ask him, yanking my arm out of his grip.
“It definitely won’t be him,” he sneers, and Rob steps up.
“Why the hell not? I’m a hell of a better guy than you,” Rob spats back, and I rush to step in between them.
“You have to be shittin’ me,” Dex continues, and I kind of want to agree with Rob on this one.
