Except when it comes to you.
There’s a faint blush on her cheeks that’s mesmerizing. “Look, I’m not interested in your sex life. I just need to know whether I should get checked out for—well, you know.”
Yeah, I know, and I’m pissed that she even needs to ask. No, screw that. I’m pissed that I gave her a reason to ask.
“The last time I didn’t use anything was ten years ago.”
The words hang between us, loaded with meaning. If I could take them back I would. A part of me doesn’t want her knowing something so personal, but it’s my own fault. I always mocked the wholeheat of the momentshit as a pathetic excuse for being careless. Guess I know better now.
After a few seconds, she folds her arms and gives a brief nod. “Okay. You want to come in for cold pizza and wine?”
Chapter Four
Ty
I follow her into the small living room, and it’s like stepping back in time. We used to hang out here when her mom was at work, and I didn’t think twice about choosing her over spending time at the club or with my brothers. It wasn’t all about sex, either.
Not back then. I shove the memories aside.Nowit’s all about the damn sex.
“Make yourself at home.” She picks up a shoebox and trash bag from the couch and gives me a strange smile, as though she’s remembering the times we made out on that faded, flowery monstrosity. I sit and pick up the half-empty bottle of wine.
“Your tastes have changed.”
She dumps the box and bag next to half a dozen other trash bags, hands me a wineglass, and then curls up at the other end of the couch. “Guess I grew out of drinking soda. Sorry I don’t have any beer.”
I tip some wine into the glass. She’s not the only one whose drinking habits have changed. When I’m alone I enjoy a good red. Not in public, though, or when I’m with my brothers. It’s beer or hard liquor, the same as I’ve always drunk since I was sixteen. I lean back and glance around the room. Her mom’s taste was weird, but it’s all in good condition. “You keeping any of this furniture?”
She flips open the lid of a pizza box on the smoky glass coffee table and avoids looking at me. “No. I don’t have the room, and in any case, it’d cost a fortune shipping it over to Florida.”
“Need some help getting rid of it?” I drain the wine and refuse to analyze my question. It’s got nothing to do with wanting to see her again after tonight.
“Thanks.” She sounds guarded. “But I’ve already arranged to have it picked up at the end of next week. Pizza?” She offers me the box.
It might be cold, but having food waved under my nose reminds me it’s been hours since I’ve eaten, so I take a slice and shove it into my mouth. It’s good she’s made arrangements for all this junk. Means I don’t need to feel guilty or offer to help her move stuff out of a warped sense of responsibility.
“You’re staying until the end of next week?” Not that it makes any difference to me. I take another slice of pizza.
“My flight’s next Friday. I’ll just leave the keys with the landlord.”
From the corner of my eye, I see her glance around the room. Her mask slips, and I see raw grief etch her face. It’s gone within seconds, but the pizza lodges in my throat, and I toss the rest back in the box, my appetite gone.
“How’d she die, Jas?”
She leans the side of her head against the back of the couch and stares at me for a long moment. Her hair’s all messy from where I raked my fingers through it, and I have a hard time not grabbing her hands and pulling her against me.
Hell, I could do that. She’s just lost her mom. Except I can’t. It crosses some kind of line I can’t even explain.
She lets out a long sigh. “According to the coroner it was unintentional poisoning.”
Our gazes clash, and I can’t look away. Unintentional poisoning covers so much I don’t even know what to say. Does Jas know her mom was still using? Hell,wasKelly still using? I don’t know anything for sure.
“Right.” The pain in Jas’s eyes is killing me, and I grab the bottle and pour more wine so I don’t have to look at her anymore.
“She had a heap of prescription drugs.” There’s a defensive note in her voice as though she thinks I won’t believe her. “It wasn’t suicide.”
That hadn’t even crossed my mind. “Nah, course it wasn’t.” I frown down at the wine, wishing it was something a lot stronger. Wishing I could somehow take away her pain.
There’s another silence, and I risk glancing at her. She gives me a small smile. “Sorry. You don’t want me crying on your shoulder. It’s hardly the deal we made, huh?”
