“Should you be walking up these stairs every day?”
Callie stops midflight and turns around. “I’m pregnant. I’m not an eighty-five-year-old heart patient.” She swivels back around and stomps up the stairs.
“It was just a question.”
“A stupid one in case you were wondering.”
She gets to her door, and I put my hand over hers as she’s about to insert the key into the lock. “Listen. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m feeling this way. These things are just coming out of my mouth. I’ve never been like this.”
“You mean with your other one-night stands who end up pregnant, you weren’t trying to lock the woman in a padded room and force-feed her?”
I lean my shoulder against the wall and blow out a breath. “Hayes is really important to me. Our friendship is…” I try to excuse my behavior with one of my many theories.
“Ah.” Her head rocks back. “It’s about me being Hayes’s baby sister. Well, don’t worry, I’m a big girl and can take care of this little bundle.”
It’s not just because she’s Hayes’s sister, but it seemed like the better explanation than trying to tell her all the shit going on in my head.
“Go home, Foster.” She puts the key in the lock. “I’ll see you around.”
Callie twists the key and swings open the door. She freezes in the doorway, and her jaw slowly drops. Seeing her stunned reaction, I push off the wall and peer over her shoulder into the apartment.
“Callie…” I try to keep my voice level. “I’m gonna need your help so I don’t end up on the evening news in handcuffs.” My voice is calm, but rage boils in my veins, hotter than hellfire.
She puts her hands on either side of the doorframe as if she could stop me from barging in. “Jerry?” She uses a calm voice as if he’s a child. “Why are you in my apartment?”
“And wearing her fucking bra and panties?” I shout over Callie’s shoulder.
Callie sighs and presses back against me.
His eyes are wide as he glances around like a wild animal that’s been cornered. “Oh… I… I was fixing your shower and my clothes got wet…”
“Bullshit.” I step closer so I can get my hands on him, but Callie continues to stand in the threshold, blocking the way, which keeps the beast in me at bay.
Just barely.
“I think we both know that isn’t true, so how about you get dressed and leave the apartment?” Again, with the placating tone.
Jerry walks to her bedroom, head hanging low. I don’t want to know how many times he’s done this.
Callie finally walks in and points toward the kitchen. “You’re going to stand over there, behind the counter, and you can’t come out.”
“I’m not your dog.”
“Don’t act like a guard dog then.” She pins me with a stare.
My fists itch to meet Jerry’s face, but I do what she says because Jagger’s words repeat in my head—don’t do shit that’s going to get you bad press. And I’m pretty sure beating Jerry to a bloody pulp will get me bad press. Even if they knew what he did, there would always be people saying, “I knew Foster was trouble. All those tattoos and bad energy. Of course I’m not surprised he beat up that innocent man.”
Besides, the last thing I want is for my kid to find out I’ve been arrested when they get older.
Callie looks away from me in the direction her landlord went. “And, Jerry, you can go ahead and keep that panty and bra set.”
“Did he have to put on that set?” I grumble.
She side-eyes me.
It was the set she was wearing the night we were together. Black, lacy, and see-through with flowers. Shit, I almost tucked her panties in my pocket that night like some prize to prove she’d actually slept with me. At the time, I thought it was the competition with Easton over who could have her, but I knew the minute my lips pressed against hers I’d been lying to myself.
Jerry comes out, his head angled down.
