She drops her gaze to the ground and says nothing.
“Jocelyn, that’s not how things work. You can’t have it both ways. If you want me, you have to be mine, too. You can’t turn me down, then expect things to go back to how they were. You can’t sleep with other men and expect me to be waiting for you with open arms. It isn’t fair, and it’s selfish.”
She flinches. “I’m not sleeping with other men.”
I go still. What? She... Did she just say...
“I didn’t do it,” she says. “I went there, but I didn’t sleep with him.”
Uhhhh. What is this new tingly sensation, sprouting up through the pain? Is thismorehope? I thought it had been murdered irrevocably. Maybe hope is a vampire. Immortal. Dangerous.
“Why not?” I ask.
She rubs her nose and looks away. “You know why.”
The dying organ in my chest thumps hard against my ribs. “I don’t. Say it. Be specific.”
Warm brown eyes turn toward me. “Did you sleep with Gabriela?”
Oh, no. She isn’t getting out of this so easily. “Would it bother you if I did?”
Her mouth opens to answer, but Geoff yells, “Yo, Foley! You burning my burger?”
Shit. I grab the spatula to scoop up the smoking burgers. Meanwhile, Jocelyn tries to slip away. My hand darts out and grasps her wrist before she leaves.
“Would it?” I ask.
A beat passes, the cinnamon in her eyes turning glassy. When she speaks, her voice is barely more than a whisper. “Yes.”
The desperate, scared look on her face has me pulling her closer. “Where is your head, Joss?”
A tear splashes over her cheek. “I’m drowning, and I can’t find my way to the surface. Let me go.”
Does she think I’m an anchor?
“Foley!” Geoff rises from his chair. “What the fuck are you doing?”
I glance down at the smoking mess on the grill, and Jocelyn’s wrist slides from my grip. By the time I’ve trashed the food and turned off the grill, I’ve been subjected to another annoying lecture from Geoff—“That girl’s going to kill you”—and Joss is nowhere to be found.
When I peek out front, her car is gone. She doesn’t call, doesn’t text. She chooses the path of least resistance, just like I knew she would. She ignores it all. For the first time in over two years, she doesn’t spend Saturday night at my house.
By Monday afternoon, the weather has turned gray and windy. Rain spits just enough to make everything cold and moist. Franklin was upgraded to a Category 2 hurricane an hour ago, but we’re hovering at the edge of the cone. Still, Jocelyn’s probably freaking out.
At least she’s texting me back now—unlike yesterday, when she ignored me until late at night, pretending like she’d forgotten to charge her phone.
Yeah, right. The girl never forgets her phone. It’s her lifeline. She just didn’t want to deal with me. Deal with any of it, more like. Kind of annoyed with her. Hot-and-cold thing isn’t my favorite. Wish she’d make up her mind.
You team a or b?
B again.
I’m sorry.
You’re welcome to come to my house.
It’s okay. I’ll be fine.
You sure? It’s supposed to get bad overnight.
