I still don’t acknowledge Legend when he speaks again. This isn’t about him. I’ve never felt more betrayed by my best friend.
“The garage door,” Spade snaps.
“It won’t be so bad,” Faith offers, but her tone tells me that she’s possibly just as uneasy as I am about this.
“Why can’t you two come?” I offer, knowing that physically I’m still safe with Spade, despite my irritation at the mere sight of him. It’s the slap in the face, the sting I still feel on my skin, that makes me want to go back to bed and hide from this problem altogether.
“Kincaid has a different project for me,” Legend answers before Faith can even open her mouth. “He won’t give you any trouble.”
I watch over Legend’s shoulder as Spade leans his bike on its kickstand. Climbing off, he walks toward the driver’s side of my car, pulls open the door, and hits the garage door button.
My lip is twitching in anger as he climbs back on his bike and drives it into the garage. A few seconds later, the roar of the machine silences and he walks out carrying a duffel bag.
“You should really keep your car locked if you’re not going to park it in the garage.”
Glaring at my friend isn’t going to change a damn thing, but it’s better than the alternative of cussing like a crazy person at this man.
“I do what I want,” I spit instead of explaining that I just got home from work and left my car in the driveway instead of pulling it back into the garage where I park it every night. It’s a tight fit getting in, and I didn’t want to struggle with my suitcase before I left.
Legend coughs a laugh, and when I look over, I find Spade staring at me like I’m a spoiled brat.
The thought of him spanking my ass in punishment flits through my head, and I shut that shit down as fast as it showed up.
“I don’t even know his real name,” I argue, my attention right back to my best friend.
This is a weak argument at best because I know the vetting process that Cerberus goes through, and I’m not in any danger spending the next couple of days with this man.
I barely resist the urge to stomp my foot to get my point across.
“Dylan Pratt,” the devil himself offers.
I keep my eyes on Faith, narrowing my eyes further when her lip twitches as if she’s trying to stop a grin.
“Grab your stuff and let’s hit the road.”
“I’m fine going alone,” I tell the group in front of me before turning around and going back inside.
I struggle to zip my suitcase, grunting loudly when I pull it off the bed and the damn thing nearly hits the top of my foot.
Reaching for my overnight bag, I startle when I hear his voice right behind me.
“It’s two days, three at the most. Why did you pack so much shit?”
I jump back like I’m facing a poisonous snake when his warm hand covers mine, his long fingers now gripping the handle on my suitcase.
I don’t answer him, but I don’t think he was expecting it. My mouth is hanging open as he leaves the room, the strap of my overnight bag somehow now on his shoulder.
I know I may be overreacting. I know if the man actually remembered our night together, I’d be jumping for joy at all the possibilities these next couple of days could hold.
But he doesn’t.
How in the world can the best night I’ve ever experienced sexually be so easy for him to forget? I just can’t wrap my head around it. How can something so monumental to me not even register to him?
I had options when I faced him at the care facility on Veterans Day. I could’ve easily flirted back and tried to get him to remember, or get pissed, striking out defensively, because let’s be honest, the man hurt my feelings.
Obviously, I chose the latter, and now that I’m firmly in that position, I don’t see a way out of it. It’s making me hostile and affecting nearly every damn action I take.
With a long, deep breath, I decide to settle on indifference. I’m a goddamned adult. I can act like one, and when this trip is over, I never have to see the man again.