32. Chapter 32
Should I?
The move to Texas went well. Gramps was lucid and in the moment the entire time, though the trip took four days because he wanted to stop at practically every convenience store on the eight-hundred mile trip to “see what kind of beef jerky they have.”
I didn’t give a damn how long it took. It was just nice to see him having fun. We even took a short detour into Oklahoma to visit one of the casinos. I lost my ass at blackjack, but Gramps racked up almost a thousand dollars beside me, and Ma won fifty bucks on a penny slot.
My grandfather is now in his new home at Shady Pines, and he’s happier than a pig in shit. A couple old-timers from the local VA came by to visit with him the second day he was there, and he hasn’t stopped talking about it.
Ma adores her house and has been exploring the town. I’m pretty much a hermit, only coming out of my apartment to work out at the arena with Baylor and some of the other guys during the day. In the evenings, I have dinner with Ma or Gramps, sometimes both.
Tonight I’m sitting on my black leather couch in my shorts with Juliette’s shirt draped across my chest so I can smell the brambleberry that’s barely discernible now. Opening the Amazon app, I search for sachets for a few minutes before something on the television catches my attention.
Tossing my phone aside, I lean forward with my elbows on my knees and turn up the volume. My mouth drops open in utter shock at the newscaster’s report .
“Fashion heiress Evie Bouvier has returned home to New York after being missing for over seventeen years. The FBI held a press conference with the Bouvier family today to inform the public about Ms. Bouvier’s harrowing ordeal.”
The scene switches to a clip of the press conference where an agent lays out the story. “I’ll be damned,” I mutter when he wraps up by asking for privacy for the family.
My thoughts immediately turn to Juliette since Evie was her best friend and because she was fucking there at the resort where Evie was taken. I shudder to think that it could have happened to her.
I’m overcome with the need to call Juliette so I can check on her and see how she’s doing with all this. Picking up my phone, I pull up her contact info and hover my thumb over the call button.
Should I?
Her words that day in the airport come back to me.
I think a clean break would be best.
Because it’s what I need.
With a curse, I drop the phone onto the couch and lean back, digging the heels of my hands into my eye sockets. “Why is this so fucking hard?”
After sleeping on it for a night, I compromise. Instead of calling Juliette, I decide to text her. But what should I say? Congratulations doesn’t seem quite right. I mull it over and finally tap out a message.
Reno: I know you said we shouldn’t contact each other, but I saw the news about Evie. I just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you.
I almost piss myself with excitement when she responds a minute later.
Juliette: That’s so sweet of you. I went to see her last weekend. We’re planning a getaway with all six of the women who were there.
Reno: Are you going to Pineapple Island for this getaway?
Juliette: Haha, no. We’re going to Evie’s house in Florida.
I type “I miss you” and erase it six times before finally sending another text.
Reno: Please be safe.
Juliette: Aww, are you worried I’ll get lost?
Reno: It’s not outside the realm of possibility.
Juliette: Luckily, I had a big stud to keep me from getting lost on my last vacation.
Fuck, she’s flirting with me. I think about how to reply and grin when I put my thumbs to the screen.
Reno: Name the time and place, and your own personal stud service will be there for you.
Juliette: That’s a very generous offer. I’ll let you know if your services are needed.
Reno: I take pride in providing top-notch service, dream girl.
Juliette: I can’t argue with that. Thanks for checking on me, but I have to get to bed. Work in the morning.
My cock, which has been pretty much stagnant for the past couple weeks, is now making a resurgence. The thought of Juliette underneath me while I “service” her has me hard as stone, and I reach down and palm myself.
My girl is getting in bed now. Will she be having the same kinds of raunchy thoughts that are currently flooding my mind? Will she touch herself and think of me?
Rising from the couch, I head to the bathroom in my new apartment and turn on the shower jets before stripping down. Stepping inside the amber-and-cream tiled shower, I allow the water to beat down on my back while I beat something a little lower with my fist.
It doesn’t take long, and when I crawl into bed ten minutes later, I fall into the most satisfying sleep I’ve had since I left Pineapple Island.