He regards my lack of dress with a firm mouth. "Brought Vanessa home with me." Evidenced by her fucking cat following him down the stairs. "Figured it was easier to have her here until it all calms down than bounce between houses."
"Fair enough."
"Did you get a lawyer for Crow?"
I nod. "They're sending somebody to meet him this morning. Should be at the station by…"Fuck."An hour ago."
"Fuck's sake, Jinx." He rubs a hand over his head. "You should have been there with them."
He's right. It was my job to be there to support my brother. "I'll give them a call and find out what happened."
"Do. And let me know what's said as soon as you have." He sighs, gaze dropping over my bare skin again. "Kyra kept you busy, huh?"
My stomach sours. "I don't know where she is."
"The fuck?" He makes the exclamation at me, but it may as well be for the grey tabby that scales his leg to climb atop his shoulder like a goddamn parrot.
"Hey, asshole." I scratch its head. "I'll shoot you a message when I have an answer," I tell Chaos before starting up the stairs again.
"Why a message?" he calls after me.
"Because if you're back in your room, I ain't walking in on that." Watching is Crow's kink, not mine.
I tug on a clean T-shirt and jeans, thread a belt, and slip on my cut before ducking into the vacant bathroom to brush my teeth. All the while, my mind circles through the short list of locations she could be.
Still, it's worth a try first.
I hit Call and rest the phone on the edge of the basin while I wait. It rings and rings, each unanswered tone raising my anxiety level. She'd better damn well be ignoring my calls, not in trouble again. A message chimes through when the call slips to voicemail, bringing relief.
Now is not a good time.
The fuck it isn't.
Where are you?
I'll call you after.
At least she's talking to me, I guess. However, she might call back purely to put me out of my misery and ask me to delete hernumber and her memory. Not that it would be anyone's fault but my own.Fuck this day.Doesn't matter how I played it last night, it would have ended up like this—a giant hole in our relationship that I can't fix.
I could have made her come another way, but then what? The same confusion when I had nothing for her to work with? The same shame?
There was never going to be a better outcome.
I stride into my room to put my boots on and stall when my gaze hits the laptop. It's not her. It'd never be her, and there's one way I can fucking prove it to myself.
I dash over and open the lid, bringing up her page via the browser's history. It takes me seconds to log in, and even less time to hesitate.It feels fucked up.But she said it herself: she wants me to watch her content with the same interest I do any other woman's.
And the only reason I started watching porn to begin with was to figure out if it was my dick that was broken or the club girls really turned me off.
I scroll down a few posts and click on a Fourth of July-themed one, the scene behind her donned in red, white, and blue, and the tiny outfit she barely fits into littered with stars. Kyra wears a top hat wrapped in the American flag, tilted so her face is barely visible.Perfect.I don't need those eyes watching me fail again. Judging me as I fucking prove yet again that I'm no real man.
That I'm flawed. Ruined.
She moves on my screen, fluid and graceful as she strips off the tiny bikini, her back to the camera.
I kick my door shut and drop my jeans and boxers, settling on the end of my bed with my jaw locked and anger forcing my muscles taut.
She's fucking beautiful. Perfect with her curves and fuller hips. I goddamn love that about her, that she no longer feels the need to starve herself to some prick's idea of how a woman should look. That she fell in love with her body the way it is and made anyone who watched love it too.
