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But I understood that Trey likely didn't have anyone else he felt comfortable discussing Cary with.

"He's bisexual, Trey," I said softly, reaching out to run a comforting hand down his biceps.

"That doesn't mean you're lacking."

"I don't know how to live with this."

"Would you consider counseling? With both of you, I mean."

He looked at me with haunted eyes for a long minute; then his shoulders slumped.

"I don't know.

I think I have to decide if I can live with him cheating.

Could you do it, Eva? Could you sit at home waiting for your man, knowing he was sticking it somewhere else?" "No."

An icy shiver coursed through me at the mere words.

"No, I couldn't."

"And I don't even know if Cary would agree to counseling.

He keeps pushing me away.

He wants me, and then he doesn't.

He's committed, and then he isn't.

I want in, Eva, like he's let you in, but he keeps shutting me out."

"It took me a long time to break through to him.

He tried pushing me away with sex, always coming on to me, taunting me.

I think you made the right decision keeping it platonic on Friday.

Cary puts his value on his looks and sex appeal.

You need to show him that it's not just his body you want."

Trey sighed and crossed his arms.

"Is that how you two got close? Because you wouldn't sleep with him?" "Partly.

Mostly it's because I'm a mess.

It's not as obvious now as it was when we met, but he knows I'm not perfect."

"Neither am I! Who is?" "He believes you're better than he is, that you deserve better."

I grinned.

"Me .

well, I bet part of him thinks I deserve him.

That we deserve each other."

"Crazy f**ker," he muttered.

"He is that," I agreed.

"That's why we love him, isn't it? Do you want to go in and see him? Or do you want to go home and think about it?" "No, I want to see him."

Trey's shoulders rolled back and his chin lifted.

"I don't care what put him here.

I want to be with him while he's going through this."

"I'm glad to hear that."

I linked my arm with his and led him to Cary's room.

We entered to the sound of my mother's trilling, girlish laughter.

She sat on the edge of the bed, with Cary smiling adoringly at her.

She was as much a mother to him as she was to me, and he loved her so much for that.

His own mother had hated him, abused him, and allowed others to abuse him.

He looked over and saw us, and the emotions that swept across his face in that moment caused a tightness in my chest.

I heard Trey's breath catch as he got his first sight of Cary's condition.

I kicked myself for not telling him in advance not to make the mistake of getting weepy like I had.

Trey cleared his throat.

"Drama queen," he said with gruff affection.

"If you wanted flowers, you should've just asked for them.

This is extreme."

"And ineffective, apparently," Cary rejoined hoarsely, clearly trying to pull himself together.

"I don't see any flowers."

"I see a ton."

Trey's gaze did a brief slide across the room, then went back to Cary.

"Just wanted to see what I was up against, so I could beat out my competition."

There was no way to miss the double meaning in that statement.

My mom rose from the bed.

She leaned over and kissed Cary's cheek.

"I'll take Eva out to breakfast.

We'll see you in about an hour or so."

"Gimme a sec," I said, passing the bed quickly, "and I'll get out of your hair, guys."

I grabbed my phone and charger out of my bag and plugged it into an outlet by the window.

As soon as the screen flickered to life, I sent a quick group text message to Shawna and my dad, saying simply: I'll call later.

Then I made sure my phone was silenced and left it on the window ledge.

"Ready?" my mom asked.

"As I'll ever be."

Chapter 13

I had to get up before dawn Tuesday morning.

I left a note for Cary where he'd see it as soon as he woke up, then headed out to grab a cab back to our place.

I showered, dressed, made coffee, and tried to talk myself out of feeling like something was off.

I was stressed and suffering from lack of sleep, which always led to tiny bouts of depression.

I told myself that it had nothing to do with Gideon, but the knot in my stomach said differently.

Looking at the clock, I saw it was a little after eight.

I'd have to leave soon, because Gideon hadn't called or texted to say that he'd be giving me a ride.

It had been almost twenty-four hours since I'd last seen him or even really talked to him.

The call I'd made to him at nine the night before had been less than brief.

He'd been in the middle of something and barely said hello and good-bye.

I knew he had a lot of work to do.

I knew I shouldn't resent him for having to pay for the time away with extra hours of work getting caught up.

He'd done a lot to help me deal with Cary's situation, more than anyone could've expected.

It was up to me to deal with how I was feeling about it.

Finishing my coffee, I rinsed out my mug, then grabbed my purse and bag on the way out.

My tree-lined street was quiet, but the rest of New York was wide awake, its ceaseless energy thrumming with a tangible force.

Women in chic office wear and men in suits tried to hail taxis that streaked by, before settling for packed buses or the subway instead.

Flower stands exploded with brilliant color, the sight of them always capable of cheering me up in the morning, as did the sight and smell of the neighborhood bakery, which was doing a brisk business at that hour.

I was a little ways down Broadway before my phone rang.

The little thrill that shot through me at the sight of Gideon's name quickened my steps.

"Hey, stranger."

"Where the hell are you?" he snapped.

A frisson of unease dampened my excitement.

"I'm on my way to work."

"Why?" He spoke to someone offline, then, "Are you in a cab?" "I'm walking.

Jeez.

Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or what?" "You should have waited to be picked up."

"I didn't hear from you, and I didn't want to be late after missing work yesterday."

"You could've called me instead of just taking off."

His voice was low and angry.

I became angry, too.

"The last time I called, you were too busy to give me more than a minute of your time."

"I've got things to take care of, Eva.

Give me a break."

"Sure thing.

How about now?" I hung up and dropped my phone back into my bag.

It began ringing again immediately and I ignored it, my blood simmering.

When the Bentley pulled up beside me a few minutes later, I kept walking.

It followed, the front passenger window sliding down.

Angus leaned over.

"Miss Tramell, please."

I paused, looking at him.

"Are you alone?" "Yes."

With a sigh, I got in the car.

My phone was still ringing nonstop, so I reached in and shut the ringer off.

One block later, I heard Gideon's voice coming through the car's speakers.

"Do you have her?" "Yes, sir," Angus replied.

The line cut out.

"What the hell crawled up his ass and died?" I asked, looking at Angus in the rearview mirror.

"He's got a lot on his mind."

Whatever it was, it sure wasn't me.

I couldn't believe what a jerk he was being.

He'd been curt on the phone the night before, too, but not rude.

Within a few minutes after I arrived at work, Mark came up to my cubicle.

"I'm sorry to hear about your roommate," he said, setting a fresh cup of coffee on my desk.

"Is he going to be all right?" "Eventually.

Cary's tough; he'll pull through."

I dropped my stuff in the bottom drawer of my desk and picked up the steaming mug with gratitude.

"Thank you.

And thanks for yesterday, too."

His dark eyes were warm with concern.

"I'm surprised you're here today."

"I need to work."

I managed a smile, despite feeling all twisted up and achy inside.

Nothing was right in my world when things weren't right between me and Gideon.

"Catch me up on what I missed."

* * *

The morning passed swiftly.

I had a checklist of follow-ups waiting from the week before, and Mark had an eleven thirty deadline to turn around a request for proposal for a promotional items manufacturer.

By the time we sent the RFP off, I was back in the groove and willing to just forget Gideon's mood that morning.

I wondered if he'd had another nightmare and hadn't slept well.

I decided call him when lunchtime rolled around, just in case.

And then I checked my inbox.

The Google alert I'd set up for Gideon's name was waiting for me.

I opened the e-mail hoping to get an idea of what he might be working on.

The words former fiancee in some of the headlines leaped out at me.

The knot I'd had in my gut earlier returned, tighter than before.

I clicked on the first link, and it took me to a gossip blog sporting pictures of Gideon and Corinne having dinner at Tableau One.

They sat close together in the front window, her hand resting intimately on his forearm.

He was wearing the suit he'd worn to the hospital the day before, but I checked the date anyway, desperately hoping the photos were old.

They weren't.

My palms began to sweat.

I tortured myself by clicking through all the links and studying every photo I found.

He was smiling in a few of them, looking remarkably content for a man whose girlfriend was at a hospital with her beaten-half-to-death best friend.

I felt like throwing up.

Or screaming.

Or storming up to Gideon's office and asking him what the hell was going on.

He'd blown me off when I'd called him the night before - to go to dinner with his ex.

I jumped when my desk phone rang.

I picked it up and woodenly recited, "Mark Garrity's office, Eva Tramell speaking."

"Eva."

It was Megumi in reception, sounding as bubbly as usual.

"There's someone asking for you downstairs -  Brett Kline."

I sat there for a long minute, letting that sink into my fevered brain.

I forwarded the alert digest to Gideon's e-mail so he'd know that I knew.

Then I said, "I'll be right down."

* * * I saw Brett in the lobby the minute I pushed through the security turnstiles.

He wore black jeans and a Six-Ninths T-shirt.

Sunglasses hid his eyes, but the spiky hair with its bleached tips was eye-catching, as was his body.

Brett was tall and muscular, more muscular than Gideon, who was powerful without any bulk.

Brett's hands came out of his pockets when he saw me coming, his posture straightening.

"Hey.

Look at you."

I glanced down at my cap-sleeved dress with its flattering ruching and acknowledged that he'd never seen me dressed up.

"I'm surprised you're still in town."


Tags: Sylvia Day Crossfire Romance