Groaning chuckles and tauntingoohs float through the office.
“What? What’s the big deal? It was a shitty old showerhead. I definitely gave her an upgrade.”
Chance laughs. “You think, but reality is, Superman, you left that woman high and dry. Single ladies—I’m guessing, especially single mommies—have a special relationship with their showerheads. Nothing like pulsing spray on the bean to start the day off just right.” A Cheshire cat grin makes himalmost unrecognizable. A touch evil and all kinds of shitty. “Taking that away from her, that’s just wrong, Clark.”
I scoff, “Fuck that noise. Maybe if you were better with your dick or put your mouth to good use, the women you date wouldn’t have to get themselves off in the shower.”
If—hopefully when—I get there with Chloe, the only reason she’ll need a long shower after sex is to wash it all away so I can dirty her up again.
Chance laughs all the way to the door. He just fucking got here, and he’s already taking off. “I’ve got my shit covered, man. No complaints yet.” He grabs his crotch, as if that somehow makes his point, and strolls out the door.
I blowout a frustrated breath and read the email again. I used to love spring in San Diego. Now, the thought of going back there at all makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t really have a choice in the matter, not if I want a shot at justice. Though is justice really even a possibility? There’s no way to make any of this right.
Erin needs a heads-up. Jason Grant and Calvin Feuerborn, the owners of Fire Born Security, do, too. I check the project schedule both here and in San Diego. Calvin was instrumental in pushing me out of California, and I don’t know if Jason created a spot for me or if there really was an opening, but here I am. They’re the true heroes, the ones who saved me when I was convinced I’d been broken beyond repair.
It’s too late in the day to drop this on anyone’s desk here, and even though Calvin saw me through the worst of things, I need to follow chain of command. I should work as far ahead as possible, get things set for when I need to bounce, but the thought of why,of what’s on the other end of my quick trip, is enough to put me off digging into the next thing on my list.
What I really want is to escape for a minute. Run until I’m exhausted. Drink until I can’t remember. Find a little slice of normal.
I lock up my files and shut down my computer. Whatever I need, I’m not going to find it here, in the office at six o’clock on a Thursday night.
“You finally ready to kick out of here?” Chance asks as I pass his desk.
“Yeah, I’m done. You?” I dig my keys out of my pocket as Chance slams his laptop shut.
“Yep. Buy you a drink?”
“I don’t know. Probably gonna be shit for company tonight,” I say, pushing through the door.
Some people, far more conscientious than me, are still working, so we ignore the flash of the security panel and just listen for the lock to click as the door glides shut.
“One drink. A beer at Chick’s, and then I’ll let you go fix your shower fuckup.” Chance is still laughing as he climbs into his black-on-black-on-black truck, lifted and pristine.
I should go, have a beer, and be done. The problem is, the more I think about my options for distraction, the less I want to be around people. And that right there is the deciding factor for me. I will not give in to the demons that whisper it’s best to hide. The evil spirits who lure the vulnerable in with the false promise that it’s best to be alone. My choices are drinking with Chance or crashing Chloe’s evening. And I’m not ready to share this with her. I need to put the Aly situation to bed. Do what I can to see that my ex-wife gets the help that she needs. And then maybe—just maybe—I can move on.
I pocket my keys and pull myself up into Chance’s passenger seat. “Fuck it. Let’s get ripped.” It’s his turn to distract me from my demons.
THIRTEEN
Chloe
Every time the ref blows the whistle, Miles cringes and rubs at his temples. He holds his own through yelling instructions and encouragement at the players, but it looks like that whistle might be the death of him. The man looks seriously hungover.
“Holy shit, Chloe. I can’t believe you’re okay with Jake playing this game. It’s brutal,” Kate says as Jake flings the ball to the player behind him, getting thrown to the ground seconds later.
“It looks worse than it is,” Jack mumbles, stalking to the edge of the field. He cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “Let’s go, Triplett. Push, push.”
I snicker and shake my head. “Is that what he’s like in the delivery room?” I pat Kate’s baby bump and coo, “Don’t worry, baby. Auntie Chloe won’t let Daddy yell at your mama like that.”
“You don’t scare me,” Jack tosses over his shoulder at me.
I bark out a laugh. “That right there is some bullshit. I remember you practically hiding behind Dallas when youwanted to stay in a hotel on leave instead of with us.” I let out a low series of chicken clucks.
Jack smirks and fits himself in behind Kate, spreading his hands across her belly. “And it was the best decision I ever made.” His sweet declaration is cut off as the ball is tossed to Jake, who runs it in to score.
“Touchdown,” Kate cheers as Jack lets loose a shrill whistle.
“Yeah, it’s called a try in rugby.” I bump Kate with my shoulder, happy just to have her here for a visit. I miss my friends desperately.
