Текст книги "Rock Bottom"

Автор книги: R. K. Lilley

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Rock Bottom
Tristan & Danika -2
by
R.K. Lilley

This one is for my SCs, Raine Miller and Katie Ashley. Thanks for bringing me up and talking me down. Love you bitches.

PROLOGUE

DANIKA

I took a deep breath, my face buried in the most divine chest in the world.  I’d been awake for a while, but I didn’t even think about getting up.  I wasn’t sure if I was more wrapped around Tristan, or he me.  We’d gone to sleep clutching each other, and from what I could tell, neither of us had moved an inch.

My leg was thrown over his hip, my arm around his side, a fistful of his T-shirt gripped in my hand like I was holding on for dear life.  I was lying on my other arm, enough weight on it that it’d gone numb, and still, I didn’t even think about moving.

His arm was thrown over my shoulders, one leg pushed high between mine.  I could feel my own T-shirt riding up to my ribs, his hand gripping a handful of it at my back.  We’d been mirroring each other, clinging for dear life, even in sleep.

I felt him stir, and I lifted my head to look up at him.

His beautiful golden eyes were blinking, still blank from sleep.  I witnessed his transformation from sweet oblivion and into dawning horror as he remembered.

I thought that might have been the worst thing about losing someone, that moment between asleep and awake, when you had to remember and accept the loss again, relive that moment when your life changed, and you lost something dear.   It had been just over a month since his brother’s funeral, and he was still reliving that horrible moment of realization every single morning.

Two days after the funeral, Tristan’s mother had asked him to leave her home and not come back.  As wrong as it was, it was clear she was placing all of the blame for Jared’s death at Tristan’s door.  I thought he’d taken the falling out well, considering all he’d been through, and I’d been confident that she’d change her mind after she made it out of her own grief, but so far, she was holding firm in her pique.

It was a struggle for me not to get mad at her.  But I told myself, over and over, that she was just hurting bad, and that much pain could spill outward.  She loved Tristan, and so she would get over this.

Tristan had taken her rejection well, all things considered, but he needed me now more than ever, and I was determined to get him through this.

He’d spent the past month basically glued to my side.  He still had his apartment, but he’d slept over at Bev’s house every single night since we’d left his mother’s.  He didn’t want to be alone for even a second, and I understood.  Solitude was perhaps a necessary component when dealing with grief, but I could not deny this man anything.

We didn’t go out, spending our days playing with the boys, and our nights watching re-runs of Jerry’s all-time favorite show, Arrested Development, over and over again, until we could quote the episodes to each other.  We’d make love, fall asleep, then make love again.  It was a time of comfort and distraction, of love and avoidance.

To this day, I thought back on those days as the most bittersweet of escapes.

His eyes shut tightly, and his lips sought out mine, seeking comfort through touch.  I gave it to him.  I was ready and willing to give him absolutely everything.

His fingers let loose their grip on my shirt, skimming up along my back, peeling it off me in a few smooth, swift motions.  His shirt received the same treatment from my impatient hands.  I rubbed my chest to his as we made direct contact, skin on skin.

He dragged off my panties while I dragged off his boxer-briefs, kissing every part of his body that I could reach, sucking his nipple hard into my mouth until he gasped and tugged me away, his hands in my hair.

He slid his hands down to my hips, gripping tight.  He rolled onto his back, and pulled me up to straddle him.  “Ride me,” he told me gruffly, using those big hands to tug me into place over his erection.

I arched my back, using one hand to balance on his chest while the other guided him to my entrance.  I rubbed him there, letting him feel how ready I was, and just loving the feel of his tip playing over me.

His hips bucked underneath me, pushing him in far enough to make me gasp.  “Now,” he growled, “I can’t wait.”

I pushed down while he surged up, seating me to the hilt.

My eyes closed, my head falling back as sensation overtook me.

I stayed still, just enjoying that perfect contact, until his impatient hands tugged at my hips, urging me to move.

I circled at first, a teasing motion that had him gripping my ass and moaning.

I bit my lip and worked into a rhythm, rocking back and forth, back and forth.

He brought one hand up, kneading at my breast, his other sliding up my thigh, going unerringly to my clit, rubbing in a circle that brought me to the threshold of release deliciously, leisurely.

Those magic hands never missed their mark.

“Please,” I cried, quickening my pace.

He worked me faster, and I froze and shook like I had a fever, letting the waves of rapture take me.  I felt him jerking inside of me as I came back down from that addictive high, his face arrested in his own gratifying release.  I loved to watch him come, and I held as still as I could, impaled on him, until his eyes opened, and he blinked up at me.

I folded down to lay against him, burying my face in the side of his neck, breathing him in.

He always smelled divine.  Like home.

“I love you,” he rasped out.  He said it all the time.  He didn’t hold it back, now that he’d admitted it, but it still gave me butterflies, every single time.

“I love you,” I spoke softly into his ear.

He gripped me harder.  “I can’t ever lose you, Danika.  I’m not sure I’d survive it.”

“You’ve got me.  And I’m not going anywhere.  Not ever.”

I meant the words when I said them, but life had other plans for us.

I was, by nature, a fighter, and no one could say I didn’t fight for us.

I’d have given my life for that fight.

In fact, I very nearly did.

Tristan was in the shower when I finally took Kenny’s call.  He’d been trying to contact us both for a week, but some strange instinct had kept me from talking to him.  I felt bad about it.  Kenny was a nice guy, and he had to be hurting about Jared as well, but Tristan and I had been thriving in our own little world, and it was hard for me to let go of that.

“Hello,” I answered, my voice tentative.

“Danika!” Kenny’s voice filled the phone, warm with relief.  “I’ve been trying to call you for a week.  How are you?  And how’s Tristan doing?”

I sighed, filled with guilt.  “He’s okay.  Sorry I haven’t answered.  It’s just been, well…”

“No worries.  I understand.  You’re taking care of him, and we all appreciate that.  Thank you.”

That set me aback.  I had been trying to take care of him, but I hadn’t expected his friends to thank me for it.  “You’re welcome, Kenny.  I just want to be there for him.  I’d do anything for Tristan.”

“I’m happy to hear that.  I’m glad he had you to help him through all of this.  He really needed you.”

I swallowed hard, choked up at his praise.  I wasn’t used to hearing things like that.

“I know he won’t want to talk to me yet, but could you give him a message for me?”

“Of course.”

“I have Jared’s guitar.  I doubt he’ll want it now, but just let him know that I’m keeping it for him.  Jared was teaching him to play.  Did you know that?”

“I didn’t.”

“I think it would be good for him to take it up again.  It would make him feel closer to Jared, and he needs that.”

“Do you think that will help right now, or make it worse?”  I asked.  I wasn’t asking because I had the answer.  In my opinion, it could go either way.

“I think it will help.  They were so close.  Forgetting his brother is not an option, and staying close to what made Jared whole is the best way to remember him.”

I could tell by his voice that he believed that.

Later, much later, I would regret telling Tristan about the phone call, about the guitar.  Some part of me, the part that liked to wallow in my own misery and dwell on the past, would blame that guitar for everything that went wrong between us, because it brought him back to the band and that lifestyle.  But the logical part of me knew that Tristan would have gone back to old habits and old friends, and that whether he sank or swam was, inevitably, in his own hands.

Every misstep that led us down the path to our destruction was our own doing, but to this day, I still hated that guitar.

CHAPTER ONE

DANIKA

When we hit the party scene again, we did it in force.  We were people of extremes, to be sure, though I’d never have put myself in Tristan’s league when it came to decadence.  After several weeks of seclusion, staying home night after night, we began to go out again.

It was supposed to be one night, one party, but that wasn’t how things worked with Tristan.

It was my firm belief that to properly mourn the loss of a person, you had to deal with the silence in your head and accept what it turned into when life didn’t keep you too busy to think.  We had some small bit of that, when we spent time alone together, just the two of us.  I didn’t think we had nearly enough of it before we started up again with the party scene, but Tristan didn’t agree.  He was determined to escape from the silence in his head, at all costs.

I felt helpless to stop him.  His demons were so very different from my own.

We found ourselves at another house party, of another friend of a friend, celebrating something or other.  I was thoroughly over it by then.  The house parties didn’t even have danceable music most of the time, and Tristan took off to talk to Kenny nearly the second we arrived at this one.  Frankly, I’d as soon have been home studying or at the dance studio practicing.

The consolation prize for this party was that Frankie was there.  She almost made up for the fact that Dean and Twatalie were in attendance.

Unfortunately, long before I found Frankie, Twatalie found me.

I was just grabbing a drink from some stranger’s kitchen when a voice spoke to me from behind.

I stiffened instantly in recognition.

“Well, you are an exotic little piece of ass, I’ll give you that.  But I don’t suppose the yellow fever can last forever.  His first love is for blondes, you know.”

I blinked slowly at her random little diatribe, then smiled big.  This I could handle.  It was the keeping my mouth shut and the claws in that had been a struggle.

“Not all of us can look like Bratz dolls,” I said, my tone idle.  “Did your doctor give you a discount when he realized that you’d lost the ability to blink your eyes or close your mouth?  If not, you should definitely write a nasty letter.  Though, in your case, I guess the more you have in common with a blow-up doll, the better.”  I met her furious eyes straight on, making my expression into one of surprise, popping my lips out and slightly open like hers were permanently; my best impression of a blow-up doll.

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?”

I rolled my eyes, disappointed that was the best she could do.  I’d been ready for a real sparring match.  “And you’re a tired old Vegas slut of a gold digger.”

“I’m only twenty-six!”

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.  It really said it all, that the old part of my statement was the only thing she took exception to.  “Sluts that bang old men age in dog years, didn’t you know?”

She had nothing for me besides a hand throw in the air and some heel stomping as she walked away.  I knew men liked boobs, but I was baffled that Tristan had fallen for her.  Unaccountably, dealing with her just always made me want to throw things at him.

“Why do you look like you want to hit something?  What did Tristan do now?”

My mouth twisted ruefully as I turned to look at Frankie.  “You know what’s infuriating?  Verbal sparring with a blow-up doll and realizing that this used to be my boyfriend’s ‘type.’”

“Ahh, Twatalie.  She’d put anyone in a bad mood.”

“I swear she’s stalking us.  She’s everywhere we go lately.”

“She wants him back.  She’s making no bones about it.”

That made my gut twist.  He’d given her a ring once, and I was almost certain there were still some feelings left between them.

“It would never happen, Danika.  Get that look off your face.  He wouldn’t do that to you, especially not with her.”

“I walked in on them flirting once.  It was months ago, but I could tell there were still feelings between them.”

“I bet you misunderstood.”

“I don’t think I did.”

“For the record, I think your jealousy is clouding your judgement on this one.  They have a long history, yeah, and I think he went from resenting her to feeling sorry for her.  I think she had a rough childhood, and Tristan was always trying to rescue her from it.  He’s got this savior complex…”

“Savior complex…You think he’s trying to save me?”

“No.  That’s not what I’m saying.  What I mean is he’s a good guy, and he always sympathized with her.  That’s a part of him that won’t change.  He doesn’t like what Nat’s become, but he’s got a soft spot for what she’s gone through.  As a matter of fact, that’s also why he’s still friends with Dean, mega-asshole that he is.  I guess Dean had a tough childhood, and that’s why Tristan cuts him so much slack.”

“Well, that soft spot makes me want throw things at him.  Does that make me a bitch?”

“Not in my book.  Just don’t mistake a soft spot for some kind of an emotional affair.  He’ll barely talk to her now, sympathy or no, because he knows how much it pisses you off.”

“That’s only fair, when he’d try to kill one of my ex-boyfriends if he saw them so much as looking at me.”

“True.  You make a solid point.  He can never ever complain about you being jealous, since he turns into a maniac if anyone looks at you funny.”

“Exactly.”

We tracked Tristan down in a crowd of people laughing by the pool.  He was talking to Kenny, with Cory and Dean just a few feet away.  The band was back together.  I could tell at a glance.  And the man in a suit that seemed to be kissing their ass made my gut twist.

I was about to lose him.  The thought was swift and hard to shake.  But something was happening here, some big move for the band that was bound to take him away from me, be it in time or distance.

He smiled huge when he saw me.  I hadn’t seen him so happy since Jared died.

I wanted to throw up I was so worried about what he was going to tell me as he left the group, grabbing my hand and tugging me away.

“I need to talk to you about something,” he explained.

I followed on leaden feet, wanting to stall, or run, whatever it took to stop this thing in its tracks.  I was being ridiculous, I knew, but knowing that didn’t stop the horrible feeling in my gut.  “That sounds ominous,” I told him, keeping my voice steady.

“It’s nothing bad.  It’s good, I think, actually.”

He pulled me until we found a private little corner on the side of the house.  He moved close, touching his forehead to mine and smiling before he began.

“We just got a record deal.”

I’d known it, known by the happy reunion of the band, who hadn’t been together since the funeral, that this was happening.  It had always been heading in this direction.

He swallowed, his eyes suddenly downcast.  “It was what Jared always wanted.  It’s not right that he’s not here to see it.”

I melted, stroking a hand over his cheek, trying to offer him whatever comfort I could.

“The rest of the guys are all over it, and I’m happy for them, especially Kenny, but I’m not sure I’m up for it.  The band…the entire thing is not the same for me without Jared.  It won’t be at all hard for them to find a new lead singer.  They’re a dime a dozen.”

He was delusional if he thought the band would fare as well without him.  Hell, I didn’t think they’d still have a record deal if he backed out, but that wasn’t for me to say.

It was a touchy question and hard for me to ask, but… “What about Jared’s spot?  Don’t you need another guitarist?”

He grimaced, running a hand through his hair.  “We had enough guys that we don’t technically need another member, but the record company has someone that they want us to use.  I haven’t met him, but I hear he’s good.  I’m happy for the guys, but like I said, I’m not sure I’m up for it.  None of it would be the same for me without Jared.  Just the thought of someone else taking his spot makes me feel sick.”

I saw what he wanted from me, even if he didn’t.

He tried so hard to hide all of his pent-up frustration at life, his malcontent with the hand he’d been dealt; a talented man who was good at everything, of sound mind and exceptional body, and yet had nothing to do with it, nowhere to put it to its proper use.

He’d been raised in a world where his potential had been valued at so much less than its worth.  He was ambitious.  He’d never admit it, because it was a pipe dream where he came from, but his ambitions were a hot burning thing, beyond his control, and he needed this.

I buried my hands in his hair, touching my forehead back to his.  It wasn’t easy, but when I spoke, I made my voice sure.  “I think you should do it.  Opportunities like these don’t come often, and when they do, you have to grab them.  This is what Jared would have wanted.”

“It’s just not the same without him.  It never will be.”

“No, it won’t.  It will be completely different, but that doesn’t mean it won’t still be good.  For the guys and for you.  And for Jared.  It was his dream for the band to make it, and he was not selfish.  He’d be just as happy if you made it without him.  But you’re never really without him.  He’ll always be a part of you, right?  And that part of you needs to do this, baby.”

He hugged me to him, his face burrowing into my neck, breathing me in, making my eyes flutter closed in pleasure.  “Thank you.  You’re my rock, sweetheart.  I don’t know what I’d do without you.  You make everything better.”

I melted into a messy little puddle at his feet.  Having this man love me like he did had become my whole world.

Though he’d put up a token protest, I knew he wanted this bad, and I couldn’t blame him.  I understood his need for this.  I desperately wanted to amount to something too, and so I didn’t ever even consider holding him back.

My approval, or encouragement, was seemingly all he needed, and so it was settled.

I got more details, troubling details, as we rejoined the group of giddy bandmates.

They were going to start working in the studio in just over a week.  And that studio was in L.A., which was a five-hour drive away.  They were required to work on the new album five days a week, and the entire process could potentially take months to complete.  I wanted to throw up, but instead I smiled, and congratulated them all, and let Tristan hang his arm over my shoulders like all was right with the world.

I didn’t need another reason to hate Dean, but he always seemed more than willing to give me one.

Tristan was off talking to their new producer, leaving me alone for less than five minutes when Dean approached with a shit-eating grin on his face.  I had the strong urge to literally make him eat shit.

“Out of town five days a week…How long do think it will take for Tristan to bury himself in some fan pussy?  I give it two weeks.  Let’s make a wager out of it.  If I’m right, I get to bury my dick in your pussy.”

I glanced in Tristan’s direction, debating whether I should deck the creep or sic Tristan on him.

“Aww, you gonna tell your boyfriend that I was out of line with you?  You can dish it out, babe, but you sure can’t take it.”

I glared at him, because I’d been real good about not dishing it out where Dean was concerned.  The less interaction the better, I’d learned.  “I would tell Tristan what you just said to me, but then he’d kick your ass, and I don’t think it’s right to hit girls.”  I smiled sweetly as the jab hit home, and he glared at me.

In an act of supreme self-control, I walked away.

At least I’d gotten the last word.

CHAPTER TWO

TRISTAN

The party had gone into full swing with the announcement of our record deal.  Music started blasting and across the brightly lit backyard, I saw Danika dancing with Frankie.  No matter how many times I saw it, Danika moving her hips to the beat was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen.

She was wearing a little tiny blue skirt, her legs toned and shown off to perfection, her little ass so tight my mouth went dry every time she turned it my way.  I was standing near the pool, talking with a group of guys about the news, but I wasn’t really.  In my mind, I was lifting up that tiny skirt, bending her over, and burying myself balls deep inside her.

I owned that.  She was mine. Mine.  That sexy as hell creature belonged to me, and the second I thought someone else didn’t seem to understand that, I lost my fucking mind.

How I knew I was a lunatic about her was that I was even jealous of her smiles, her laughs, any damn thing that brought her joy that I hadn’t caused.  I just didn’t want to share her, any part of her.

She was mine.

The way she felt about me was evident with just a look.  I’d never been loved like that before, not by anyone, and it did insane things to me.  I’d only had one other relationship to compare this to, and so I thought of Nat, and how she’d said she loved me five fucking times a day, incessantly, until I felt suffocated by it.  Suffocated, but never actually loved.  Not like I felt with just one glance from those pale silver eyes.  Now if I could only become halfway worthy of that love, I’d make it through all the shit life was throwing at me.

“She is beyond hot, I’ll give you that.  If you’re gonna let a bitch pussy whip you, she ain’t a bad choice.”

I sent Dean an unfriendly look.  He and I had not been seeing eye to eye lately.  “Knock it the fuck off, unless you’ll enjoy it when I kick your ass.”

He just smiled his crazy smile.  When we were kids, I’d loved that smile.  It had always meant fun, likely trouble, but still fun, but something had changed about him over the years.  I couldn’t put my finger on when it had happened, but he just wasn’t the same guy he’d been.

I cut him an ounce of slack, because losing Jared hadn’t only broken me.  But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the change in him had happened long before Jared’s death.

“I’m just talking, Tryst.  Just words, my man.  Anyway, all of that pussy whipping that’s got you so salty will be worth it when you kick her to the curb and I get a revenge fuck out of her, Nat style.”

I had his shirt in my hands, my temper going through the charts with a few sentences out of his asshole mouth.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I asked him through my teeth.  “And what the fuck does Nat have to do with anything?”

“She fucked me, not a week after you broke it off.  Let me do all kinds of messed up shit to her, just to get back at you.  Joke was on her.  You never found out until now, when you couldn’t give two fucks about who taps that.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”  I was shaking with rage.

“Oh, my bad.  You still give a shit who gets inside of Nat?  Good to know, man.”

I shook him like a rag doll.  I could feel how everyone had frozen around us, so my voice was quiet when I spoke.  “Girlfriends, ex or not, are off-limits, and you fucking know it.  It doesn’t matter what goes down, if you ever lay a finger on Danika, I will cut your dick off and fucking feed it to you.  Do you understand?  I don’t care if it’s ten years from now.  You touch her, you’re dead.”  I let him go, my fists clenching.  I had to get away from him before I lost my mind and someone called the cops.

Dean was still grinning like the crazy bastard he was.  “I got your message loud and clear.  Good to see that anger management is working for you.  I’ll leave you alone so you can practice your zen and shit.”

He walked away, whistling like nothing had happened.

“Crazy fucker,” I muttered to his back.  He’d been blatantly baiting me, and still, it had worked.  The idea of another man so much as shaking Danika’s hand made me lose my shit, and the idea of Dean, fucking dirtball Dean, having her, made me feel murderous.

“Tristan,” a breathless, all too familiar voice called my name softly, gripping my elbow.

I turned, giving Natalie an annoyed eyebrow lift in question.  The woman was becoming a real nuisance.  We’d gone years without so much as bumping into each other, but now that the old man had dumped her, she was everywhere I turned.  I didn’t think for a second that it was an accident, and I was beginning to think back on the years of no contact with genuine affection.  It was becoming apparent that even though we’d grown up together, we weren’t going to be able to be friends.  She was never going to let go of the idea of us getting back together, and there was a no percent chance of that ever happening again.

“What do you want?” I asked her, ill-tempered and making no attempts to hide it.

She smiled, unfazed.  She was a sly one, and for years I’d mistaken that slyness for intelligence.  It wasn’t that.  Over time, I’d realized that she was nothing but a dumb bitch.  “I had some things I wanted to talk to you about.  Can we go somewhere private?”

That was so crazy it was almost amusing.  “Fuck no we can’t.  My girlfriend hates your guts, on account of you being a fucking bitch to her, and the last thing I’m going to do is piss her off again because of you.  If you have something to say to me, you can say it right here.  And make it quick.”

She touched my arm, smiling up at me.  All I could think was that she wasn’t worth talking to for five seconds if it got Danika mad at me.

“Oh, Tryst, remember how it used to be?” Her tone was dreamy.  I felt suffocated by it.  “Remember the chemistry?  We were so hot for each other.  I’ve never felt anything like it, not before or since.”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed.  It was not a happy laugh.  I was too sick of her walks down memory lane to indulge her.  Just over it.  “That’s not how I remember it.  I remember how you withheld sex to get your way.  And the chemistry was nothing special.  Frankly, I get better every night now.  World’s better.  No comparison.”

She gasped in outrage, but I wasn’t done.

“I hope someday you find someone you really care about, Nat, someone you really love.  Then you’ll realize that what you and I had was nothing but dumb puppy love.”

DANIKA

I abruptly stopped dancing as Tristan yelled something at Dean and grabbed his shirtfront.

Not again, I thought, cringing.  Those two were at each other’s throats every time I turned around.  Two men had never seemed less suited to be roommates, but roommates they were.  I wasn’t sure how long that could last, but I’d be more relieved than anyone when they parted ways.

“What the ever-loving fuck did Dean do now?” Frankie muttered behind me, tugging on my arm.

“I should go try to break it up,” I said, the very idea just making me feel exhausted.

“No, you shouldn’t.  You should come inside with me and let them sort it out.”

“I might be the only one that can calm him down,” I explained, but I followed her in.

“That is a very temporary solution to a much bigger problem.  That man has got to learn not to lose his temper without you as a crutch.”

I knew she was right, but I still couldn’t stop worrying, and looking outside every few seconds, trying to gage if the situation was going to spiral out of control.

I was beyond relieved when Dean strode through the door, whistling.  He even smiled when he saw me, as though the sight of me made him happy, when it never did.

“You,” he said, making it sound like an endearment.  “I was just looking for you.”

There was no way that was a good thing.  The bastard was looking for trouble more than me, I just knew it.  I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at him.  “Why?  And what did you say to Tristan to get him riled again?”

“Let’s not pretend he isn’t always riled, yeah?”

I hated that he had a point.

“But that out there, that was nothing.  He was just having a jealous fit about Nat and me hooking up.  You have nothing to worry about, though.  I’m sure that doesn’t mean he still has feelings for her.  Oh and look,” he pointed out the window.

I turned to follow his stare, my body tensed up; my head messed up by what he’d said.  I couldn’t shake my suspicion that Tristan still had feelings for that bitch, and what he’d said just validated it.

Sure enough, Tristan was talking to Natalie, noticeably angry.

“I’m sure he’s telling her off for fucking me.  But it doesn’t mean he still wants her.  It’s totally normal to get pissed off about something that happened years ago with your ex-girlfriend, right?”

I hated that he spoke in my language, sarcasm, when everything he said pissed me off.

“Just go away, you little shit,” Frankie told him.

I was still staring outside at Tristan and Nat, watching how his face transformed as his scowl disappeared and a loud laugh escaped him that made my fists clench.  She’d just said something that he thought was funny, and I hated it.

“Just remember.  I’m always here if you want to make him jealous back.”

I ignored Dean completely until he went away, my eyes, every iota of my concentration on the couple speaking, and leaning close together outside.  She touched his arm twice.  I counted.

“I say we just leave.  Just get out of here.  You in the mood for some In-N-Out?  It’s good drinking food.”

“Yes.”  I turned decisively away from the window, done torturing myself with that.  If he wanted to talk to his ex, he could wonder where the hell I’d gone.  I didn’t particularly want a burger and I hadn’t had even a sip of alcohol, but that was not the point.

He’d texted me five times by the time we were ten minutes away.  I just watched the screen flash, not even reading them at first.

“Let’s talk it out, girl,” Frankie drawled, shooting me a sideways eyebrow lift.  “You look mad enough to spit.”

“I think he still has feelings for her,” just sort of fell out of my mouth.  I felt childish and paranoid, but I couldn’t shake the awful way it made me feel to see them talking to each other.  “You don’t get jealous enough to fight somebody because they hooked up with someone you broke up with years ago unless you still care about that person, right?”