“You’re not getting the house,” I said again. “I’ll buy your share, and you can buy something else.”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t need it. It’s too big for you.”
“But not too big for you?” My voice was a touch too high. “Fuck you, Neil.”
I felt Bri jerk in her chair and stare at the side of my face.
Nobody was around but the three of us. Nobody heard it. But I hardly ever stood up to Neil. I didn’t know what was fueling this momentary surge of bravery.
No—I knew exactly what was fueling it. It was the clarity from months of therapy. The realization that he was a manipulative, emotionally abusive asshole.
And something else.
For some reason knowing that Neil wasn’t the last man who’d given me an orgasm fortified my courage. I think it did more for this situation than any of the rest of it. The other night was proof that I was attractive and desirable, despite everything Neil had tried so hard to make me believe.
Bri smirked, and we tag teamed glaring at him.
His jaw set. “You don’t know how to deal with the house. The pool needs to be opened for the summer, the sprinklers are shut off and blown out, there’s a dead tree that needs to be removed before it falls on the roof, you need to put salt in the water softener—”
“You don’t do any of that,” I snapped. “You hire someone to do it.”
“Hiring someone to do it is part of what it takes to run it. There’s a hundred and one things I manage there that you have no idea about. You’re not capable of running a property of that size.”
“My answer is no,” I said. “I will not have you uproot my life.” I leaned forward. “And anyway, if you got the house, how would you ever get the smell out?” I cocked my head and watched him take the hit. It was an inside jab that only he and I understood, and one that made its mark.
He pressed his lips into a line. Then he turned and stalked off.
“Oh, my God!” Bri whispered when he was far enough away that he couldn’t hear her. “Holy shit, I’ve never seen you tell him to fuck off like that.”
“What happened?” I muttered. “I blacked out.”
We watched Neil push through the double doors and disappear.
Bri shook her head with a grin. “Look at that man-trum. Eight thousand nerves in the clitoris and still not as sensitive as a white man not getting his way.” She beamed at me. “I like this new you.”
“My therapist says being consistent is the only way to deal with someone like him. That what you allow is what you teach. I have to set clear boundaries and enforce them.”
“I’d say that was pretty damn clear. God, he’s annoying. He’s like that hair stuck to your shirt and you know it’s there ’cause you can feel it on the back of your arm but you can’t get rid of it?”
I laughed. “I’m never giving him that house.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“I’m not. I spent an entire year furnishing it. I use those trails more than he does, and my friends live there too. That is my damn house.”
Then we sat there for a minute.
I faced her. “I think I need to call that guy.”
“I think so too.”
“I mean, I should return his hoodie, right? That’s the right thing to do. What if it has sentimental value?”
She looked amused.
“What?”
“Let’s call this what it is. It’s a booty call. You need this rebound. Someone to make you feel safe and beautiful and give you all the good sex you didn’t have for the last seven years. And he sounds perfect for the job. Too far away to be up in your shit. Too young to want a commitment.”
“And we have nothing in common, so no way I’ll get attached,” I added.
She nodded. “Not even a possibility.”
Chapter 7
Daniel
I sat at a high-top table in the VFW, nursing a warm beer. Doug was being annoying. This meant his anxiety was high. I was used to it, but my patience had been shorter than usual this week.
April was one of my favorite months. No tourists, so I got to shut down the rental property and focus on my carpentry full-time. The weather was starting to get good and the leaves were budding, which I liked. But I was in a bad mood anyway.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her. About why she’d left. I felt like I’d frightened away some beautiful creature I’d never lay my eyes on again.
I ran the night through in my mind over and over, and so many stupid fucked-up things had happened, I couldn’t put my finger on the one that had done it. Was it the pig? My loft?