Chapter 3 #3
“Because she…is…my…friend. Another reason we don’t work, you’re jealous as fuck. It’s unattractive.” Slight pause. “Right. Yeah, I’ll cop to that. There was reason. So why the fuck are you fighting this?”
Reason?
Reason for her to be jealous?
Of me?
“You’re blocked,” he bit off. “And unless you wanna see me escorting Luna everywhere she goes so I can deal with your ass, and she doesn’t have to, leave her the fuck alone. Got me?”
He didn’t wait for her to assure she got him (or other).
He took the phone from his ear, tapped it repeatedly with his thumb, then tossed it on his counter.
He then looked at me. “Sorry you had to put up with her crap.”
“It really wasn’t that big of a deal.”
It actually was, but I wasn’t going to admit that.
“It is to me. You see her anywhere, you tell me. I’ll deal with it.”
“Knox—”
“No response necessary.”
Stubborn as all hell!
All right. Moving on.
“It’s my understanding you didn’t press charges.”
“Nope,” he said easily.
That head-pressure thing was happening again.
“Why the hell not?” I asked.
“Don’t get involved.”
I pointed to his phone. “You yourself just claimed me as a friend. When friends do stupid shit, friends get involved!”
My voice was rising, along with the return of the hellfire.
“It’s not stupid shit,” he clipped.
I threw out both arms, and definitely getting louder, stated, “You were shot!”
“Why are you going to babysit Dream’s kids?”
I shook my head.
Hard.
“Oh no you don’t,” I warned. “You’re not gonna turn this around on me.”
“I’m making a point. Answer me.”
“She’s thin,” I snapped. “Rundown. She works all the time and any downtime she has, she’s taking care of her kids.
She went from one extreme to the other. She’s my sister.
And I’m not gonna let her waste away making a point when, if I can break through with her, we can find some equilibrium and be a functional goddamned family. ”
“So how do you think I feel about my sister being messed up with the Fentanyl and Cocaine Distribution Network’s Man of the Year?”
Goddamn it.
He had a point.
“You went in alone,” I accused.
“This is not the men’s fight.”
“I think they beg to differ.”
A muscle jerked under the stubble along his jaw and he muttered fumingly, “That was my fuckup. But I’ll talk them down.”
“You think?”
He focused on me.
Like, really focused.
And then he asked, “Why are you here?”
I didn’t hesitate to answer. “Because you’re doing stupid shit and someone has to sort you out.”
“So you can’t swing by my hospital room to see if I’m okay, but you can swing by my house to get up in my face?”
I blew out an infuriated breath, realizing I not only needed to ignore the yearnings of my heart, but also listen to the rational part of my head.
I looked away and mumbled, “This was a mistake.”
“Giving a shit about me is a mistake?”
My gaze raced back to him. “Do I have to remind you what went down with us between Thanksgiving and Christmas not very long ago?”
“No, baby,” he drawled. “I remember you walking out of my house, and my life, like it was yesterday.”
How much would I have to talk my way around it at the pearly gates if I threw something at a man who had one usable hand and the same with his legs?
Since I wasn’t fired up to have to explain myself to Saint Peter, I had to get out of there.
I whirled and didn’t get out of there.
He had a book, the TV remote and one of those gallon-sized water bottles, half full, on his coffee table.
Oh, and a gun.
I ignored the gun.
No blanket. No comfy pillow from his bed so he could take a nap. No tablet to play games or whatever. No snacks within reach.
I whirled back to him. “What the fuck is this?”
“What the fuck is what?”
“Who brought you home?”
“Cap.”
Lord save me.
Men!
Without looking at him, I tramped up the stairs and went right to his bedroom, then his bath.
In his medicine cabinet, I pulled out his ibuprofen, naproxen and aspirin (mm-hmm, these guys didn’t mess around with painkillers, and even though I grabbed them, I did it ignoring that too).
I then, in his bedroom, swiped two pillows and dragged the comforter off his bed.
I took this all downstairs.
Out of the sides of my eyes, I saw Knox still in his kitchen.
I ignored him as I stacked the pillows on one side of the couch, with difficulty (it was a king) folded up the comforter so it’d be tidy and put it in reach for when he needed it (Knox didn’t have throw blankets, something I would have rectified if we’d stayed together, and something that thrilled me, but I wouldn’t cop to it, because it was evident he didn’t allow Cheyenne in deep enough to give her that honor).
I set the pain meds on the coffee table and nabbed his water bottle.
Ignoring him still (kind of, he was a very tall, built guy and his kitchen wasn’t that big) I filled the water bottle then perused his cupboards.
They were pretty bare.
Then again, Knox was a glitch in the matrix.
The dude actually liked grocery shopping and tended to hit one to grab what he wanted to make for dinner on his way home from work.
I dug my phone out of my bag, pulled up Instacart, loaded the cart with snacks, dips and treats, programmed his address in for delivery, and hit go.
Only then did I look at him.
“Stuff is gonna be delivered. Don’t open the door when it gets here. I don’t want you having to bend down to pick anything up. I’ll swing around after Dream gets done with Reiki and bring it in.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Well, tough. This is what friends do. So you’re just gonna have to suck it up.”
“Luna—”
I didn’t know why.
Hearing his deep voice wrap around my name?
Seeing his magnificence cobbled like that, and it not being my place, never going to be my place to truly look after him?
Being back in his space, where I’d been happy, we’d been happy, until he killed that?
Whatever, it was then, I lost it.
And I did it spiking toward him and shouting, “Fuck you, Knox! Fuck your stubborn. Fuck your pride. Fuck your complete inability to compromise. Fuck you for throwing us away and fuck you for making me be your friend. But that’s what you wanted.
So here I am, big man. Take it or leave it, and by leaving it, I mean, I’m history.
We’re acquaintances. We might be in the same space at the same time because we know the same people, but I don’t exist for you.
So what’s it gonna be, Knox? Like you did to me, no time to think on it.
Like you said back then, you either know you got it in you, or you don’t.
Answer. Now. Are you taking it? Or leaving it? ”
I absolutely refused to allow the look on his face to penetrate when he said, this time the quiet of his tone being the soft-gentle-sweet variety, “Baby, I think we need to talk.”
“You said what you had to say back then, Knox. My decision was made. So what’s yours?”
More soft-gentle-sweet, God help me.
“You know I want you in my life.”
“Okay, then I’ll be back to put the stuff away and with some ready meals so you can nuke something decent to eat other than chips and dip.”
With that, I returned his water bottle to the coffee table and marched to the door.
“Luna.”
I turned to him, took one look at his face and begged, “Don’t.”
He did.
“I should never have started with her.”
“You were free to do so, so I don’t know why you think that.”
He flinched.
I so should not have come there.
We were doing each other damage.
God, I hoped I could return and put his food away without ripping us both open again.
“Is there anything you want from the grocery store?” I asked.
“I’ll be able to get around better in a few days.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No, there’s nothing I want from the store.”
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Thanks, babe.”
I stared at him.
He stared at me.
Neither of us said anything.
I took that as my cue…
And got the hell out of there.