"Oh."
"Yeah." He runs his hand through his hair. Brings the other to the countertop. "If you'd rather not—"
"No. Thanks."
"It does suck. I remember that." He looks in the direction of his father's room. "The fighting. The bullshit." His gaze softens for a moment, then he brings his attention to me. "So? How was he?"
"What?"
"James? Good? Bad? Tiny? Loaded?"
"You're such a guy."
"How is that?" he asks.
"All the talk about dick size."
"Like you didn't ask Daisy about Holden's the second she told you."
I clear my throat.
"Ugh. Why did I bring that up?" His expression twists with distaste. "Don't want to know. Don't want to hear a thing about it."
"Really? So you probably wouldn't want to hear—"
He makes a show of covering his ears. "What was that? Can't hear you. Sounds like you said something about you've been with so many guys because you love dick so much."
That's ridiculous. I can't help but laugh. "That sounds like me."
"Yeah. You're on a mission to suck as many cocks as possible."
"A generous mission."
He chuckles. "It's in your nature."
"Is it?"
He makes that same a little motion. Half-smiles.
I half-smile back.
For a moment, the air is light. Easy. Then it hits me.
He's thinking about me.
Right now.
Picturing us—
Fuck.
There's barely any room between us. Four feet maybe.
Sure, there's a countertop, but all the better. The perfect place for him—
"Did you and James?" His gaze moves around the room. The angled stairs, the leather couch, the TV. Me.
"Did James and I…"
"Fuck?"
"Yeah." I force myself to look him in the eyes. Completely fail to hold eye contact. It's there. In my head. The image of him ordering me onto my knees. Which is ridiculous. I don't even like that. I mean, I don't not like it. But I don't—
"How many others?"
"Still none of your business." I fight a blush.
He chuckles. "Because you're embarrassed?"
"Because it's none of your business."
"Okay." His eyes find mine. No more I'm picturing your lips around my cock. Just I'm teasing my friend. "But we can agree James was a scrub."
"We were in high school," I say. "What's even the metric then?"
"Good future, I guess."
"He was a football player," I say.
"That's your type, huh? Athletes?" He chuckles. "Hot guys. You're always dating hot guys."
"What kind of guys should I date?"
He shrugs. "Wouldn't know what makes a guy appealing."
"What kind of women do you date?"
"I'm not right now."
Huh.
"Don't give me that look," he says. "It's just… a break."
"Oliver Flynn is taking a break from dating. I don't believe it."
"Believe it."
"For how long?" I ask.
"A few weeks now."
"Until…"
"Until I stop the break," he says.
"Did you lose a bet or something?"
"Or something."
Hmm. I try to find the answer in his expression, but the more I stare at his baby blues, the less I care. He really has pretty eyes. And now they're full of hurt. Regret even. "There is a reason?"
"Yeah."
"Are you going to tell me?"
He shakes his head no.
"So I should just watch The Bachelorette?"
"Probably."
I push off the counter. Move to the couch. Pull up the proper streaming service.
His gaze stays on the TV as I start the first episode. For a few minutes, he watches from the kitchen island. Then he moves closer. Sits next to me on the couch.
By the first commercial break (skipped, thank you premium plan), I have my head on his shoulder.
He's so warm and safe and strong.
And he smells so good.
Bad news—secrets and sluttiness and the ability to destroy the only stable relationship in my life. But still so warm and safe and strong.
Chapter Six
Oliver
Luna falls asleep on the couch. Rouses when I tap her shoulder. Heads to the spare room without complaint.
She doesn't make a point of sauntering up the stairs. It's just the way she walks. With that slight shift of her hips. Like she's compelling me to stare at her ass.
Like she knows she's driving me insane.
No. There's plenty of insanity to go around here. I guess she's the cherry on top of the bonkers sundae.
I turn off the TV. Brush my teeth. Retire to my room.
This is it. My bed. The bed I've had since I was a kid. Dad paid Mom a fortune so he could keep the house. Not that she wanted to be here. Not sober.
She didn't want to do anything sober.
Look at me, following in those wild footsteps of hers. At least I'm trying. That's something. More than she can say.
I read the same sentence ten times. Give up on the book. It's good. One of those psychological thrillers with an unreliable narrator. Is this woman insane? Or is someone just fucking with her so well she thinks she is?
There are plenty of scary things in the world. Horrible shit happens every day. And losing people… it can happen so fast. So easily.
I almost lost Daisy. I know how it feels. To be there, on the precipice, not sure if your sister is going to live or die. Not sure if she'll ever be okay again.