“Damn, man. You’re like a bull in a china cabinet today.”
I jerk and hit the bottle again. “Shit.” It clangs against the other bottle, and they both crash into the front of the glass drawer.
Twisting on my heel, I glare at Aaron, Leah’s husband, then snatch a beer from the back of the drawer and shove it shut. I’m not getting coated in beer. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“If you didn’t have your head in the clouds, it wouldn’t happen.”
“Whatever.” Show no weakness with any of them. They might suspect something, but without proof, all they have is gut feelings and smart mouths. They’re harmless.
No matter what I do, I can’t get Natalie out of my mind. It’s been five days since she marched back into my world, and I can’t figure out what to do about it. Is she with someone else? Single? Single would make the most sense. No man with balls would like his wife or girlfriend within fifty feet of Clive Westbrook. Live with him? Never.
I don’t care if the fucker is half-dead, he’s a useless excuse of a man. The only reason I didn’t make Natalie move out when we were dating was that we were both still in high school. I’d been saving money for two years for us to have a place to live once we
graduated.
“How’s the arm?” Aaron leans against the island counter and motions with his head toward my bandaged arm.
“It’s better. Itches like a son of a bitch.”
“Means it’s healing.” He crosses his arms and cocks an eyebrow. “You’ve been off the last few days.”
“Yeah. Until the stitches come out, I’ll be off work.” The company I work for is one of the top businesses in the city. While I’m out of commission, one of the other guys is taking over my assignments.
“God.” He rolls his eyes and shoves off the counter. “You are thickheaded. I meant; you’ve been weird ever since the injury. Did something happen that day?”
Fuck. Guess I’ve not been hiding it very well. He’s got a valid point. I’ve been missing all veiled and snarky references like my head is in quicksand, which has given my sisters more ammunition to use against me.
“No.” I tip the bottle to my mouth and slug back half of he liquid. After I swallow, I use the back of my hand to wipe off my lips. “Nothing happened.”
“Are you sure?” Aaron opens the refrigerator and grabs one of the bottles I knocked down. He ambles over to the sink and twists the cap off over the basin in case it explodes. A small head of foam washes over the edge and across Aaron’s fingers. The scent of butterscotch fills the room.
Should I confide in Aaron? He and Leah have been together for years. Surely, he has some idea of what it takes to figure women out because I have no fucking clue. “I don’t know.”
He tips the bottle toward me. “Spill it. Not the beer, in case you need me to draw you a picture. I mean, tell me what’s going on.”
I chuckle. “Okay. Here goes. Back in high school, I was with a girl named Natalie.”
“Leah mentioned her.” Aaron takes a drink, sits the bottle on the counter with a thump, and crosses his arms. “She ghosted you?”
“Yeah.” I shake my head. “I never could figure it out. I dropped her off at her dad’s place after graduation and headed home. Never saw her again.” I wrinkle my nose. “Until the day I got injured.”
He presses his lips together and cocks his head. “Tell me more.”
“She’s working at the hospital as a receptionist for the ER.”
“Did you talk to her?”
I pause for several seconds. How much do I tell him? The central heat kicks on. Tell him, or not? I might as well spill it all. What could it hurt? I’ve got to figure out what to do about Natalie.
“I spoke with her for a bit.” I pace the length of the kitchen. “I can’t figure out why she left, and she’s not saying. It made no sense at the time, and it still doesn’t. We’d made plans to move in together, and then, she disappeared. Fuck. For a while, I thought her dad had killed her.”
“Shit.” He jerks backward and gapes. “What would make you think that? My kids are assholes, but I’d move heaven and earth for them.”
I laugh. Leah and Aaron’s kids are little shits, but they’re also sweet angels. I love them to pieces. “Unfortunately, the parenting gene passed over Clive. He’s an alcoholic prick. When we first started dating, she never let on, but I’d notice bruises here and there.”
“Fuck.” Aaron’s nostril’s flare out, and he shoves his hands into his pockets. “The thought of it makes me ill.”
“Yeah, if I wouldn’t have been a punk-ass kid, I would have kicked the shit out of him. Of course, Natalie made me promise never to get into it with him. I think she was afraid one of us would kill the other, and he carried a gun with him everywhere he went.”