32. Chapter 32
Chapter thirty-two
Remington
I had a nightmare that woke me up at four this morning and left me wide awake, sitting alone with my chaotic thoughts. I should’ve known going to McQueen’s was a mistake, but Ricochet really wanted to go and, well, how could I say no?
Every time I see Colton, I’m hit with a tsunami of memories from the night we spent together. For my own sanity, I need to kill the part of me that has feelings for him.
The only good thing to come out of last night was meeting Tallahassee. I liked her instantly, and we’ve already made plans to have lunch together next week.
Colton’s girlfriend, Sherry, was a different story. We were all dressed casually in jeans and t-shirts. Meanwhile, Sherry showed up looking like the keynote speaker at a hooker convention. In my wildest imagination, I never would’ve guessed she was Colton’s type.
I know I shouldn’t judge her for her clothing choices.
I’m a big believer in freedom of expression, and I think people should dress however they want without being criticized for it.
But that attitude! She reminded me of the mean girls from high school.
Colton is sweet and kind. I just can’t imagine what he sees in her.
Ricochet snaps me out of my gloomy contemplation when he comes limping out of his room.
I’m extremely happy he got his walking brace.
He was going stir crazy on crutches, but I’m still worried he’ll overdo it.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned living with him, it’s that frogmen aren’t good at sitting around doing nothing, even when it’s in their best interest.
He grabs a mug from the cupboard and pours himself a cup of coffee. “Would it be okay if I invited a friend over for dinner tonight?” he asks after taking the seat across from me.
“Of course. This is your home too. You don’t need to ask permission.” A slow grin crosses my face. “Oh, unless you’re saying it’s a date and I should make myself scarce? Because I can do that.”
“You really are the perfect roommate. But no, not a sock-on-the-doorknob situation.”
“What kind of situation is it?”
“On and off. We’ve hooked up. He’s not the commitment type.”
“But you want him to be.”
“Yeah, RJ, I want him to be,” he says wistfully. “I can’t seem to resist him, and I can’t find a way to get over him.”
I take a sip of my coffee. “I know the feeling.”
“Pony?”
I nod. There’s no point denying it. “Yeah. Are we pathetic?”
“No. We’re just hopeless romantics who can’t let go, even when we should.”
“You’re a great catch, Wyatt. It’s his loss. You never know, he might figure it out and come around. What’s his name?”
“Nash McQueen.”
“Nash McQueen? The Nash McQueen? The hockey player?”
He chuckles. “He gets that reaction a lot.”
“I can imagine. Holy cow, Nash McQueen. Do you know what you’ll be making? If you make a list, I can hit the grocery store while you’re at rehab.”
“I feel bad you have to do the shopping and drive me around like a toddler.”
Uh-oh. I see we’re starting the day frustrated.
“It’s only temporary. You’ll be back behind the wheel, breaching doors, and hunting down bad guys again before you know it. It evens out because you end up doing most of the prep and cooking. Besides, it’ll give me something to do while you’re being put through the wringer at rehab.”
As usual, Ricochet is wiped out after his rehab session and collapses on the couch the second we get home. Unpacking groceries, I pull out a box and wave it at him. “Condoms.” I flash him a wide smile. “And I picked up some lube, just in case. Check it out,” I singsong. “It’s got a pump.”
When a bright blush creeps over his face, I can’t help my boisterous laugh.