CHAPTER 5
Kaya
I grip the steering wheel tight as I pull through the gate, leaving the clubhouse.
I give Doug a quick wave as I pass him in the guard shack.
I let out a sigh as I play back what just happened.
I’m acting more like a jealous girlfriend than someone that has been pushing a man away the last few months.
No. Not a girlfriend. That is not happening.
So then why did I hate that Jessica chick on sight?
Like, I wanted to rip her eyelashes out and feed them to her.
Crap, crap, crap. This is why I don’t spend more than a night with someone.
Maverick has been weaseling his way closer for months and now I’m feeling things.
Shut it down, Kaya. We know what happens in the long run, and you are not strong enough for that.
My stomach grumbles. “Yeah, of course you’re hungry since that’s the entire reason you were there in the first place, idiot.” Now I’m starving and pissed off. Why do I do this shit to myself. I should have at least eaten before taking off. Sophia was right, but we are not telling her that.
I could go through a drive-through and grab a burger, but I have a feeling potential fetus wouldn’t like that much.
Besides barfing my brains out first thing in the morning, I seem to only get queasy during the day when I eat something greasy.
The first day it happened it was bacon. The next time was a pork roll, egg and cheese sandwich. I should probably re-evaluate my diet.
Besides wanting to turn around and hit Jessica with my car, I also want to go get a freaking test. I could do that now, but then it will be too real.
I will have to actually make decisions and plans and I’m not ready for that yet.
I’m only a little late and besides taking a vitamin, there isn’t really anything else to do this early.
Maybe there is no fetus. Maybe I’m early, early pre-menopausal. At 24. Sure.
I growl to myself as I pull into the parking lot to Gretchen’s apartment, which is upstairs from the local flower shop.
This is another thing. Whether there is or isn’t a stowaway in my uterus, I do have to start looking for a place to live.
It’s not like I can’t afford it. I’ve just never had my own place.
I lived with my foster parents until I was eighteen.
Then I moved in with Gretchen and her mom.
I stayed there for a few years, which was awesome, especially after Sophia moved in.
Then when everyone moved out, I stayed with my cousin Alyza until moving in with Sophia.
I think about that. Is that weird? I’m in my mid-twenties and have never had my own kitchen or bathroom.
I have just hopped from place to place, never putting down roots or buying my own couch.
And the thing is, I hate most people’s couches.
They suck. They are either too soft or too hard or they don’t have recliners.
I really want a couch with recliners. A black couch.
Maybe leather. Leather seems like it would be easy to clean if I spill something, because I know I will be eating on my couch.
“Is that really my plan? A black leather couch?” I chuckle to myself as I park. I am definitely a hot mess.
I grab my purse and head inside. The floral smell in the hallway is fucking nauseating. That would be another plus in moving out. I hate this smell. Every time I leave or come back, I try to hold my breath while traversing the stairs. I really don’t know how Gretchen’s dealt with it for four years.
As soon as I reach the door, it opens. Gretchen jumps. “Kaya! You scared the shit out of me!”
I let out a giggle at her wide-eyed expression. “Sorry.”
“What are you doing here? I thought you were at the clubhouse with Sophia.”
“I was. Now I’m back.”
Gretchen flips her auburn hair to one side as she studies me. Her green eyes are working overtime trying to figure me out. “What happened?”
I huff. “Nothing.”
“Kaya Marie Rhodes!”
I give her a crooked grin. “Yes, Gretchen Capri Vaughn?”
She glares at me.
I glare back.
I start to feel uneasy when I realize she will likely stand here all-night waiting for an answer. Gretchen is relentless. And I’m freaking hungry. “Some chick showed up from Tennessee looking for Maverick.”
Gretchen’s eyes practically pop out of her skull. “Wait. Who is she?”
“Some girl that was friends with his sister. His sister, that apparently passed away 16 years ago.”
She leans on the door frame. “So, they’re friends or something more? Did he ever tell you about his sister before tonight?”
I shake my head. “He never talks about anything personal. He wasn’t happy to see her at all, but she said she came to him because he never comes home and that she missed him.”
Her brows furrow. “So, you left?”
I roll my shoulders uncomfortably. “Yes?”
Gretchen throws her head back and sighs. “Oh my God. What is wrong with you?”
“What? We’re not—”
“Stop!” Gretchen closes the door behind her and locks it, leaving us both outside the door. “If you say we’re not together one more time, I’m going to replace your shampoo with hot sauce.”
I cock my head to the side. “That would be rude. My eyes could get burned.”
“Walk.” She pushes me back toward the stairs.
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m on my way to the clubhouse and you’re coming with me. I can’t believe you left after some girl showed up hunting for Maverick. Is she pretty? I bet she is or you wouldn’t be so bothered right now.”
I narrow my eyes. “I’m not bothered.” Lie.
“Tell that to your face. Walk.” She nudges my shoulder.
I huff again, but do as she says, and start the trek back out to the parking lot. “He said she caused him problems in Tennessee.”
“And your response to that was to leave?”
I throw up my hands. “What am I supposed to do, Gretchen? I have no claim to the man. I don’t do relationships. I might like him, but that doesn’t mean I have the right to stop him from being with someone else if that’s what he wants!”
Gretchen stops cold. “Say it again.”
I turn to face her. “Say what?”
She smirks. “That you like him.”
Shit. I didn’t mean to say that. My cheeks start to heat. “I’m going back upstairs.”
“Get in the goddam car!”
I quickly weigh my options. Go upstairs and find something to eat while stewing about Jessica and what she may or may not be doing with Maverick, or go back to the clubhouse and eat ham while keeping an eye on the bimbo.
I already know what I’m going to do, but I’m not looking forward to everyone’s reactions after storming out like a psycho.
Reluctantly, I open the door to Gretchen’s car and fall into the passenger seat.
“Why do you have to be such a brat?” She asks.
I don’t have an answer to that. I feel like I’m fighting against myself, Maverick, and everyone else around me.
My feelings are so jumbled and confusing that I don’t know what to think or how to act.
Jealousy twists in my gut every time I think about him with another woman, and I hate it.
I turn toward the window and try to breathe through the anxiety that’s building inside of me as we head back to the clubhouse.