Chapter Twenty-Seven
I take a long shower. The kind of shower that not only cleanses your body, but parts of your mind and soul. I scrub at invisible damage to my skin, the skin that last night he held so tightly. Wyhtt said whatever is going on with Jensen has nothing to do with me, but it feels impossible to believe in this moment.
When my skin starts to prune, I slip out of the scalding hot water. Drying off, I choose to wear the sundress I picked out today with Jensen in mind, hoping to at least impress him at dinner tonight before making him bleed with my sure-fire words later. It was yellow—a couple shades lighter than the one I flew here in—but with thinner straps, a sweetheart neckline, and finer floral details.
Even if what happened today has nothing to do with me, fuck him for disappearing and ignoring my calls, I huff. Why fly me all the way out here and confront me with the past if you’re not even going to stick around?
After getting dressed, I decide to go with a dewy, natural makeup look to show off the bit of pink tint my cheeks have from being in the sun the last two days. Also allowing my hair to dry naturally, the humidity from the beach causes a little extra wave and volume to appear.
Grayson yells down the hall as I’m slipping into my sandals. “You almost ready?”
I roll my eyes, taking my time with my second sandal before heading to the living room. Disappointment strikes deep when I see only two men standing in front of me instead of three. The pair offer sweet compliments, though none of them come close to what Jensen might have said if he were here. I thank them both, making sure to brag on their attire and personal features as well before asking not so subtly if he will be joining us.
A shared look between the men tells me enough: no, Jensen won’t be joining us. Hurt burns through my chest, but I shove it down deep in determination to still enjoy the night. Grayson offers his arm as we leave, and I graciously accept. Wyhtt holds the door open for us, giving me a reassuring grin. Still weakly holding out hope he might just be meeting up with us, my chest stays in a tight knot until we arrive at the restaurant. After a quick survey of the crowded parking lot though, I officially accept that he’s not coming, seeing that his beat-up truck isn’t here. Wyhtt and Grayson’s chatter is like nails on a chalkboard as my annoyance toward Jensen rises.
I catch another exchanged look of concern between the two.
“Stop doing that. Stop having silent conversations as if I’m not here. It’s fucking annoying.” I say before catching our waiter’s attention, order three cowboy killers—butterscotch schnapps, Baileys, and tequila—for the table, along with a red wine for myself.
“S?” Wyhtt starts. I ignore him as I continue to talk with the waiter. Once the waiter is gone, Wyhtt repeats himself more sternly, “S.”
“Yes, Wyhtt?” I ask, cocky as I turn my gaze back on him.
“I am aware you had an odd day, but I also vividly remember you can’t handle your alcohol. It may not be my place to tell you not to drink, but three shots and wine? Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“I got a shot for each of us, not all for me. I am not an alcoholic.” I joke, causing them both to stiffen. “Okay, tough crowd.”
When the waiter brings the drinks to the table, I throw back my shot quickly. Wyhtt and Grayson both seem to hesitate, but after a quick shrug from Wyhtt they both cheer and follow suit. The fire now running through my veins only ramps up my intolerance and irritation of being left in the dark. I’ll keep my anger in check though, at least until the person I’m truly upset at is in my sight.
After my glass of wine, we each have another shot, this time of straight Patrón. Dinner is enjoyable enough, a good distraction from the day, but that’s exactly what it’s meant to be: a distraction from Jensen, his actions, and whatever it is he’s keeping from me. I slip from the table, grabbing my purse with a small stumble. Wyhtt is unfortunately correct: I cannot handle my alcohol.
Grayson once more offers his arm with a grin before leading us all back to the SUV. Laughter filters through Wyhtt’s SUV as we drive home with the windows down and the moonlight streaming on us. Despite my murderous thoughts toward Jensen, we truly enjoyed ourselves this evening. My angered thoughts only skyrocket after seeing his old Silverado parked in the driveway. Neither man remarks that he’s finally home, I should have known they knew he was back.
Grayson asks if I want to play a round of pool with him and Wyhtt just as Wyhtt bounds up the stairs like a mad man. Snorting, I politely decline. I want nothing more than to get ready for bed and let this buzz settle. He chuckles with a nod of his head before chasing after Wyhtt, yelling at him to not touch his cue stick.
I make my way down the hall to my room to change, but I pause between our doorways. I can hear him pacing back and forth behind his door. Whatever happened today still has him worked up. I turn back from his door and make my way into my room. The fire in my veins is reignited as I pull an oversized shirt on. Full of rage, I march right across the hall and barge into his room.