33
Iturn over in bed, and my arm automatically stretches out, reaching for Reeve. Reality slaps me in the face when my palm grazes cold untouched sheets, and I crash down to earth with a bang. The usual pressure sits on my chest as I blink my eyes open, staring at the stark white ceiling, wondering if I’m destined to live with this soul-crushing pain for the rest of my life. When will it stop?
It’s the little things that really get me.
Like waking up thinking I’m still going to find Reeve’s warm body curled around mine, his large palm flat against my stomach, his morning wood pressing into my ass.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I ward off tears as I slide out of bed, purposely ignoring the roses that seem to stare at me from the top of my dresser. I fell into bed sometime after five, collapsing into an immediate deep sleep, before I could return them to the living area.
Stripping off my clothes, I stand under the steaming-hot water in my shower, welcoming the sharp sting as it pummels my weary limbs like a thousand fine pinpricks.
Apart from the minor setback with Dillon and that black-haired bitch, last night was an epic success, and I really enjoyed myself. I ended up kicking Dillon out because he insulted me again before we’d even made it to the roof. Ash didn’t protest, and from the disapproving look she gave her brother before I shoved his annoying ass out the front door, I could tell she was disappointed in him.
We spent the rest of the night on the roof with the remaining band members smoking joints and singing along to Jamie’s and Conor’s guitar playing. They assumed Dillon had left with his fuck buddy, and no one corrected them. I thought Ronan would, but he seems to have taken my side, which makes me a little uneasy. I don’t want to come between family, and I’m beginning to sense Ronan might be developing feelings for me, which could get awkward. Even if I hadn’t sworn off men, nothing would happen. He’s cute, funny, smart, and great to be around, but I’m not attracted to him. There’s no spark. His gaze doesn’t scorch a path along my skin, unlike his older brother’s.
After showering and dressing, I exit my bedroom, stalling when distinctive moaning sounds filter out under Ash’s bedroom door. The banging of the headboard would be a dead giveaway if Ash’s blissful scream hadn’t just confirmed it. A man cusses in a deep voice, followed by heavy grunting, and I hightail it out of there.
I thought all the guys left around five, but either Jamie snuck back in or he never left. I’ve no doubt that’s who she’s got in there.
I hope Ash knows what she’s doing with that guy. He hasn’t made the best first impression with me, but he seemed different on the roof last night. More mellow and less assholish. The guys are clearly serious about their music, and we were mesmerized listening to them sing and play guitar. Jamie accompanied me when I sang Sinead O’Connor’s “Nothing Compares to You,” and I blushed profusely when they all clapped loudly in appreciation. Mom has a beautiful voice, and I inherited some of her talent in that regard, but I don’t get the opportunity to sing in front of an audience often.
Jamie didn’t seem like a bad guy last night, and it’s obvious there are hidden layers to him, but I’m still worried for my friend.
Switching the coffee machine on, I set about making breakfast for three when I hear the others stirring. I’m just plating bacon, toast, and scrambled eggs when the lovebirds emerge, freshly showered. “I hope you’re hungry,” I say, holding up two plates. “I made breakfast.”
I set them down on the table and spin around, bumping straight into Ash. She smacks a quick kiss on my lips, and I’m momentarily stunned. She laughs at the expression on my face. “I was just thinking I could kiss Grace for this, so I thought why the heck not?” She shrugs, sliding into a seat beside Jamie while I try to snap out of it.
Jamie grins. “I think you’ve shocked your friend into stunned silence.”
“That she has,” I agree, finally snapping out of it. “Do you make it a habit to kiss all your female friends?”
“Only the pretty ones.” She winks.
I distribute mugs of coffee and orange juice before taking my plate to the table. I join Ash on her side, and we joke and laugh about the night while we eat. As I refill our mugs, I decide to risk a question. “So, you two bumped uglies last night, huh?”
Jamie bursts out laughing, slapping a hand on his thigh. “Bumped uglies?” He wipes tears from his eyes. “I think Dillon might be onto something with his prudish princess remarks.”
“Jamie!” Ash screeches, glaring at him.
I withdraw my previous charitable thoughts, and I’m tempted to dump the entire contents of the coffee pot over his head. “I was trying to be polite, that’s all. I can say fucking, screwing, banging, without blushing. I’ve had plenty of sex, and I grew up in Hollywood. Trust me when I say there is little I haven’t heard or seen.”
“Sorry,” he says, looking and sounding completely unapologetic. “Maybe it’s just a cultural thing, but you’re too funny sometimes.”
“Uh-huh.” I level him with a scathing look as I drop back down on my seat. “So, what’s the score?” I ask, my gaze bouncing between them.
“We’re friends who like to fuck occasionally,” he says, spooning a ton of diabetic-inducing sugar into his mug. “It’s no big deal, right, Ash?” He winks at her and I want to punch him in his annoying face.
“Right.” Her tight grin is borderline a grimace.
Awkward tension bleeds into the air, and I regret asking my question. Maybe I should have waited until he left and asked Ash on her own. Discreetly, I squeeze her hand in silent apology under the table.
Jamie’s phone pings, and he snatches it up, reading his message. “I’ve got to go.” He takes his plate, glass, and mug over to the sink. I watch Ash’s crestfallen face out of the corner of my eye while he rinses and stacks his plate in the dishwasher. At least the boy has some manners. He grabs his leather jacket from the arm of the couch before coming back to the table. “Thanks for breakfast, Grace.” Shoving his hands in the back pockets of his dark jeans, he fixes me with a cocky look. “I guess I should apologize too.”
“You guess?” I arch a brow. “What kind of way is that to apologize?”
A sheepish grin creeps over his face. “I apologize for being a dick to you. Sometimes I let my inner Dillon take too much control.”
I snort out a laugh. “I’ll say.”