I glanced toward the door.
Kyle, with a mischievous smile, held a large bag by its handles and waved with his free hand.
I buzzed him inside, then grabbed an extra chair and rolled it next to mine.
“I know how busy you are, so I thought I’d take care of everything.” He set the sack down. The smells of cheese and garlic flooded the air and my mouth watered.
“What if I’d said no?” I patted the seat of the chair.
“Then I guess I would’ve had leftovers for days.” He quirked his lips and gave me a peck on the cheek, then pulled away. “But I was really hoping you’d say yes.”
He began removing covered dishes and I perked up, my interest piqued.
“Picked up some chicken alfredo from that little mom and pop shop on Coriander Street. Heard they’re one of the best places in Arizona.”
I rifled through the sack and set out the extra napkins and plasticware. He’d even been thoughtful enough to order two teas—one unsweet, exactly as I liked it.
After handing me a covered dish and getting himself situated, he searched my face, the corners of his eyes softening with a grin. “So how was your weekend? Anything fun?”
I shrugged, forking a mouthful of food to give me time to think.
Kyle and I had never officially declared any kind of relationship, yet I knew he wanted to take things further.
And I’d always held back.
I swallowed a bite. “Lana and I went to a circus with Paxton Ross.”
His hand paused, the noodles and chicken speared on the fork hovering midair.
Dropping my gaze, I stabbed a leaf of lettuce from my salad and swirled it around, fighting the urge to explain why I’d been out with Paxton.
“I didn’t know you and Ross hung out.” The ice in his plastic cup rattled as he took a drink.
“We don’t.” I met his stare. “Or at least not anymore. When we were teens, he lived with my family for a few months as our foster brother before dropping off the map.”
Kyle’s shoulders relaxed and nodded. “So, he’s like a family member.”
I don’t think family members do the things we did.I reined in a chuckle.
“Not exactly.” I gutted a tomato and popped it into my mouth, relishing the sweet, acidic taste for a second. “We have history.”
Quirking a brown eyebrow, Kyle stopped chewing, his attention sharp and intense. “I see.” He swallowed.
I tucked a runaway curl behind my ear, fighting a restless urge to stand and pace. “He broke my heart.”Not once, but twice because I’m a fucking moron.
“I’m sorry.” Kyle frowned. “I don’t know Paxton personally, only professionally, but he’s had some major struggles over the past few years.”
“Really?” I dipped a breadstick into marinara sauce and took a bite. “Like struggling to get a big gig?”
“No. He had a chance several years ago.” Kyle tilted his head, his hair falling to the side of his face. “His band was supposed to open for Figaroni, but when it was time to play and he didn’t show up, his drummer and manager found him blacked out and face down in the middle of coke lines.”
My stomach dropped. I pushed the food away and struggled to breathe for a moment.
No, Paxton, no. How could you?Putting my elbow on the desk, I cradled my forehead and squeezed my eyes shut.Like father, like son.The pills were just the tip of the iceberg. I’d been right to get angry and leave. I could not—wouldnot—love a junkie. And I didn’t know the first thing about helping someone with such an enormous problem.
“Some bigwig stepped in, the drummer’s dad I think, and forced him to get clean…well, cleanish…as a condition of a future contract. I heard they manage him like a child. Stupid bastard. So young, too. He’ll probably go out just like his dad.”
“Stop it.” I plucked the napkin out of my lap and threw it on the table. “You don’t know that. Besides, you have no idea what he’s been through. Stop judging him.” I couldn’t get the image of what Paxton had told me all those years ago, of his father’s dead face staring at the ceiling, the needle still in his arm.
