Just A Phase (Vice and Valor #1)

Prologue

Palmer

“Oh, what the fuck.”

It’s a statement more than a question. After a full day of school, a dismal meeting regarding the lack of funding for our community’s Special Olympics cheer team that I now have to magically find a way to come up with, and a long evening of parent-teacher conferences, I’m spent.

I’ve spent all evening fantasizing about coming home, putting on my comfiest sweatpants, and watching some trashy reality TV with junk food in one hand and a heavy pour of wine in the other.

Instead, I’m greeted by two naked bodies scrambling off each other on the couch.

My couch.

And here I thought night two of parent-teacher conferences couldn’t get any longer.

Clay, my boyfriend of five years (okay, technically four years and eleven months, which is kind of a moot point, so ex now, I guess?) throws himself onto the ground and scrounges for what I’m guessing is his underwear.

When he can’t find any, he finagles his way back onto the couch and clasps his hands in front of his junk while the girl (Stephanie, Shania, whatever her name is) claws for the afghan draped over the back of my couch.

All the while, I stand there, keys in hand, still in the wide-open doorway, thinking about how long this venture seems to be taking.

The three of us, in varying states of dress, stare at each other, waiting for someone—anyone—to say something.

It’s Shandy (nope, not the right name either) who opens her mouth first. With the blanket held up to her chin, she starts to slide her hand toward the clothes on the floor. “I’m just going to…”

That snaps me right out of my stupor. That’s right. I should probably be mad instead of the weird sense of relief I feel.

“No! Stay! Please don’t leave when the party is just getting started!” I jiggle my keys loose from the door, shut it behind me, and flop onto the couch opposite them. Not sure why. It just kind of feels like the right thing to do. “Truly, don’t stop on my account.”

For some reason, Clay takes it as an invitation to open his big, stupid mouth to try and reason with me. “Palmer, it’s nothing really. We jus—”

I hold up my hand. “Don’t.”

“At least let me put on some pants,” he pleads.

I lean forward and rest my chin on a fist, plastering on my biggest smile. “Why bother? We’re all friends here! Right, Sonia?”

The girl shifts her dark-lined eyes uncomfortably. “It’s Sonny, actually.”

“Oh, of course! How could I forget?” I slap my hand theatrically to my forehead.

“I’m pretty good with little memory devices to help me remember names actually, which is why I’m super surprised that I forgot yours.

” I laugh, the sound a shock to my own ears.

It starts out as a giggle then grows into a full-fledged belly laugh.

“You know, since Clay is going to be your mom’s stepson and all.

Son, Sonny—” I point my finger at the two of them as their faces redden, then wave my hand in the air.

The laughter doesn’t stop. “My mistake, really. It won’t happen again. ”

Standing from the couch, I start toward the door as unbidden tears stream down my face, and I’m not sure if it’s from the laughter or the reality of the situation starting to sink in.

I grab my keys and purse from the table and call over my shoulder, “I have to step out to the store. You both have fifteen minutes to be out of my house, or I’m calling the cops. ”

That gets a reaction from Clay. “What? P, you don’t mean that. I live here, too! Can’t we talk about this?”

I shuffle some things around in my bag. “Fourteen minutes and forty-five seconds!” Then I swing the door open and slam it shut behind me.