Twenty-Five
Lauren
The pastel colors of the sunset are dissolving into the night when my dad drops me off at the loft.
Gage hasn’t called or texted, the driveway is void of his truck, and he’s not in the loft when I walk in.
What happened?
Does he regret having sex with me?
My thoughts go to the worst-case scenario.
Gage made it clear that he hated me when I got arrested, and though I thought we’d moved past that, maybe he hasn’t.
Maybe it was for revenge, to make me fall for him, so he could then give me the big fuck you for leaving him.
No, he’s not that spiteful.
Correction: the old Gage wasn’t that spiteful.
This new Gage is different—a rougher version on the exterior yet more vulnerable inside.
I check my phone again in case I missed something and collapse onto the couch. I reach for the remote at the same time I hear a car door slam in the background. Lucky for me, the blinds are open, so I don’t have to creepily peek through them.
The floodlights beam down on an unrecognizable four-door sedan, spotlighting the young blonde getting out of the driver’s side and circling around to the passenger.
Sierra’s skinny frame leans down, nearly on her knees, to wrap Gage’s arm around her shoulders, and surprisingly, she takes his weight.
He is wasted.
Can barely stand straight.
With another woman.
A combination of fear and confusion seeps through me, drowning out any thoughts that we could reconcile. Now I know our time together was nothing but a game to him.
He went to her. Drank with her. No doubt shared his problems with her.
She’d asked if he was single, and I’d stupidly told her to go for it.
I don’t bother hiding my stalking while watching their every move.
I’m silently begging for him to see the disappointment and disgust on my face.
His head is tipped down, his view locked to the ground, his feet dragging against the ground on their way to the front door.
Look up. Look up. Look the fuck up.
My heart sinks when he finally does.
It’s a fast look, brief, and it only lasts a glimpse of a second as his eyes catch mine, and they’re void of emotion, shut out, out of order.
He lowers his head in shame, and I stay there, looking pathetic, while Amos lets them in.
It isn’t until they disappear into the house that I throw my hands up and snatch a blanket to sleep on the couch.
Joke’s on me.
Now that I’ve spent time in the bed, Gage was right; the couch is nowhere as comfortable as the bed is. Not that I got much sleep. I tossed, turned, and contemplated marching into that house and kicking his ass.
Problem is, it’s not smart to kick a police officer’s ass even if he did break your heart. Jail time isn’t how I want to spend the rest of my summer.
Instead, I’m going to choose which brother I’m moving in with, find a rental, and steer clear of Gage for the rest of my life … or until we awkwardly run into each other in a public setting.
I have my coffee in one hand, my bag on my shoulder, and my scrubs on when I hear my front door being unlocked. Gage comes through the doorway, big and broad and looking like shit, complete with red-rimmed eyes, arms hanging loosely at his sides.
He clears his throat and scratches his neck when he sees me. “You ready to go?”
I clutch my cup, silently staring, waiting for him to clarify what last night was about.
“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday.” His apology is rushed, panicky, and regret is evident on his face—along with signs of dehydration and lack of sleep. If Sierra did spend the night, he must not have been a decent lay. “It was a bad day.”
My bag slips off my shoulder, and I don’t stop it from falling on the floor. “What are you doing here?”
“Apologizing for my bullshit behavior.”
I assess him, the need to figure out what I’m missing rushing through me, but there’s nothing there. All I see is a hungover man who doesn’t care about anything right now. The same empty man from last night.
Broken people make for regretful actions.
Gage came home with Sierra and is asking me for forgiveness.
I can easily give him what he wants.
But I can’t play games with someone who freezes me out and isn’t interested in giving me his all.
“Don’t you think it’s rude not to take your one-night stand to breakfast?” I ask before scoffing. “Or wait, is that what you had for breakfast, considering that’s your favorite meal and all? Looks like you have no preference of whom you get it from.”
He slowly blinks at me. “What?”
“Sierra. Did you already kick her out of your bed this morning?”
“Sierra? She helped my dad put my drunken ass to bed last night and then went home.”
I shake my head and snatch my bag up from the floor. Getting myself worked up before my shift isn’t a good idea. “It doesn’t matter. I have to go.”
He stops me from moving around him to get to the front door. “I said I’m sorry. I had a rough day. Just hear me out.”
I cross my arms. “Want to talk about it?”
“Nothing to talk about. It was a stressful day at work.” His voice turns into a fake playfulness. “You know how those are. You’ve had them.”
My smartwatch pings with a text message that was sent to my phone. “My dad is here. I have to go.”
I’m grateful that my parents answer their phones at any time throughout the night. Two in the morning, my dad answered, no sleep in his voice, and didn’t ask any questions when I asked for a ride.
“Tell your dad to go home. I’ll take you to work. I already committed to it.”
Commitment. Ha.
“Things change, Gage. I will no longer be needing any rides from you.”
“Lauren.” His false playfulness is gone. Since he walked through that door, Gage’s mood has gone from regret to forced jest and now to desperation.
My heart breaks as I look at him, and I see this as an opportunity to fix him, to fix us. “I’ll share a ride with you if you tell me what’s going on.”
He violently shakes his head. “I can’t. Don’t ask me to do that.”
“Enjoy your day, Gage.”
Even though he doesn’t block me from brushing past him, he’s on my tracks, and he waits at the top of the stairs as I hop down them, taking two at a time. I jump into my father’s truck without looking back, slam my cup into the holder, and sigh.
My dad’s gaze pings from Gage to me. “Rough morning?”
“You have no idea,” I mutter.
He doesn’t continue the conversation until we’re miles from Gage’s house. “Are you and Gage attempting to reconcile?”
I peek up at my dad in surprise. Sure, he and Mom had the birds and bees talk with me when I started dating Gage, but he’s never questioned or commented on my love life. Maybe he knew my mom had that department covered. My father is a man of few words, but those words always have deep meaning to them.
He’s a strong man and the mentor my family needs. He’s also one of the most compassionate people in the world.
“I’m not sure,” I truthfully answer.
There will be no bullshitting him. He can see right through me. What I do hold back from saying is, We had sex, and now, he’s closed off.
“Do you still love him?”
“I do,” I honestly answer again, finally admitting it out loud.
“Does he still love you?”
I hesitate before answering.
“I think so.”
“Then, you’ll figure it out. It might be a complicated journey to get there, but love conquers all, my girl.”
If only quotes were solutions to real problems.
“That’s easy for you to say. You and Mom have been in love since forever and
have been inseparable ever since.”
“That doesn’t mean there weren’t hardships. Love isn’t easy for anyone. Your mother and I have had our fair share of problems, but it was us against those problems, not us against each other. Talk to him. See where his battles are, and join him in fighting those battles. Then, your love will be stronger.”
I use my arm to clean the tears falling from my cheeks.
“You decide if his problems are worth the trouble. That’s all you can do. If you can’t, then it’s better to move on. But, if you love someone, you fight those demons together and live happily ever after, as your mom and I have.”
His questions about Gage end there. He moves the conversation to my work, to my apartment-hunting, to offering me my bedroom back at home. He fills the ride up with easing my mind, and it works.
“You have a good day,” he says when he pulls into the parking lot. “I’ll be back to pick you up, and Dallas said your car will be fixed soon.”
“Thank you, Dad.”
He stops me before I leave the truck. “And, Lauren?”
I peek back at him. “Yeah?”
“I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I say around a giant smile.
Time with him is exactly what I needed. Sometimes, you need to talk to someone who lets you see from a different perspective because it’s easy to get blinded by your own hurt and your own needs. I owe it to myself, to Gage, to our relationship to talk to him. Whether we end up in a relationship as friends or as nothing, at least we wouldn’t have given up before finding out what the other was feeling.
I pick my phone up.
Set it down.
Pick it up.
Set it down.
I’ve been playing this game since I sat down in the cafeteria for my lunch break.
Should I call or text Gage? See if he wants to talk tonight … or give him time before I try to pull all his secrets out?
I’m shoving a bite of salad into my mouth when a voice clears in front of me. My spoon drops into the plastic container, and I have to tilt my head up to see the tall stranger’s face.
I wait for him to speak, and when he does, his words come out smoothly, like a practiced politician.
“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt your meal, but are you Lauren Barnes?”
I swallow down my food before answering, taking in his expensive suit and Rolex watch. “Uh … yes.”
“My name is Robert. I’m Missy Perry’s father.”
“Missy?”
I run the name through my mind. The hospital has been busy, but I try to remember my patients’ names the best I can, and Missy isn’t ringing any bells. And I would’ve remembered this man if he had been in the room with Missy.
“Is she one of my patients?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No, Missy Perry,” he stresses. “Gage Perry’s wife.”
Dizziness rocks through me. “Wife?” I repeat, and it’s my turn to clear my throat. “I, uh … thought they were divorced.”
“My apologies, Miss Barnes.” He doesn’t look sorry. He said it for the shock factor. “His ex-wife.”
This is a black hole I do not want to jump into.
This guy looks like he’s either the head of the mafia, the president, or someone I should be terrified of.
I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “No apology necessary, Missy’s father. Gage’s business is not my business.” That’s a lie, considering I’ve done nothing but persistently ask him to open up, but I’m not going to let Missy’s pompous daddy interrogate me.
He pulls out the chair across from me and sits down.
Looks like I don’t have a choice.
“Do you have a minute?” he asks, clearly ignoring the fact that I’m uncomfortable.
Fuck no.
I look to each side of the cafeteria, trying to catch the eye of someone I know who can save me from this weird situation, but it’s dead. Mafia politician dude was lingering around until the timing was perfect.
He doesn’t wait for my response. “Missy asked that I speak with you.”
“How do you know where I work?” is my first question.
“We hired a private investigator.” He shows no shame in his answer, like it isn’t creepy at all.
“What?” I say, fixing my glare on him. “You’ve had someone following me?”
“Of course not. All he did was find out where you worked and when you’d be here.”
“That’s disturbing and a complete invasion of privacy.”
“Some might think that. I’m only here because my daughter is convinced that Gage has been in contact with you.”
“I don’t think that’s your business or hers.”
His chubby cheeks form a patronizing smile. “I see this isn’t going to be easy. I understand you see this as intrusive, but please talk to Gage. Missy is filing an appeal. She was ill then and is making progress since she was diagnosed. We’re expecting Gage to fight her release. My daughter made a mistake and deserves to be free. Please pass the message on.”
I slowly digest his words and replay them through my head before answering, “I’m sorry, but I’m lost here. What happened?” I’m getting the sense that Missy isn’t in prison for a minor infraction like receiving too many traffic tickets.
His blond brows squish together. “You don’t know about Andy?”
I shake my head.
“I assumed he would’ve told you. Please relay the message.” He pulls two pieces of paper from his pocket and slides them across the table. “Here’s my business card and an incentive in hopes that you’ll convince Gage to hear us out. If you accomplish this, there will be more coming your way.” He smacks the table before getting up. “I’ll let you get back to your job, Miss Barnes.”
“Wait,” I call out, causing him to turn around and look at me. “Care to tell me who Andy is?”
His face falls—the first sign of emotion he’s shown since he interrupted my meal. “Not my story to tell.”
A hint of relaxation hits my body when I step out of the shower and tie a towel around my wet hair. My shift was long, hard, and busy. Hell, the last twenty-four hours have been long, hard, and busy.
Luckily, it kept my mind off Gage and Missy.
Her father was gone when I looked at the papers he’d left me. The first was a business card, as he'd said. It was simple—white with only a phone number and his first name. There was no associated business. The second item he’d handed me was a check from a law firm, not him, for five thousand dollars. His visit to my job was to bribe me to convince Gage to do what they wanted.
I was tempted to tear up the card and bribe money but decided against it. Not because I wanted the money, but because I was going to show Gage when the time was right. He needed to set the man straight that it wasn’t cool to have someone follow me around for their own shits and giggles.
I pad through the loft, barefoot, wearing only a towel, as I head to the kitchen for a glass of water and a snack. I snag a granola bar and am on my way back to the bedroom to get dressed, but a knock on the door stops me.
Gage is standing on the other side when I peek out. He looks as tired as he did this morning, now wearing his uniform with a five o’clock shadow covering his cheeks and chin. It’s not the time to talk about Missy’s scary dad. I’ll save that conversation for later.
He steps in as soon as I open the door and then leans back against it, arms crossed. I wait for the roaming eyes, given I’m in a towel, and that’s what’s to be expected when you’re half-naked in front of a guy you’ve had sex with, but Gage’s gaze doesn’t move away from my face.
“How was work?” he asks.
Got a visit from your ex-father-in-law, bribing me with money.
I shrug. “It was fine.” I shrug again. “Busy.”
He takes a step forward. “About this morning … and yesterday … and last night—”
I hold my hand up, stopping him from continuing. “I’m tired. Let’s ta
lk about it tomorrow, okay?”
My answer surprises him, and I’m betting he’d thought I’d tell him to kick rocks.
“Yeah, of course,” he answers, running his fingers through his hair. “You still have the day off?”
I nod. “You?”
“Yes. How ’bout I bring you breakfast?”
“That’ll work but not too early. I’m exhausted.”
My response grants a small smile from the both of us.
He takes a step closer and hesitates, waiting for my reaction, but I slowly nod, giving him permission. His arms wrap around me, and it’s exactly what I need. I relax against him, melting into his warm chest, and rest my hands at the base of his neck.
His lips go to my hair. “Soon. I promise.”
I nod at his words, the top of my head brushing against his chin, and hug him tighter, closer, as a silent thank-you.
That’s all I’ve wanted.
Another layer of insecurity peels away when he kisses my lips.
“My shirts and the bed are all yours,” he says, pulling away and running his hands down my arms. “Get some rest, and I’ll have deliciousness coming your way in the morning. And it won’t be too early.”
“Good night.”
He kisses my cheek this time, and my hand reaches out, ready to stop him when he turns to leave, but I don’t. We might be okay right now, but the wounds from today are still fresh. We wouldn’t be able to walk into that bedroom and go to bed after what happened in the cafeteria today. I’d have too many questions, and we’re too tired for it tonight.
I eye the check on the bathroom vanity after he leaves.
Why would his ex-wife’s father give me money?
It doesn’t make any sense. Nothing makes sense anymore.
I go to his dresser and shuffle through a drawer in search of another one of his old high school tees. I embarrassingly hold the shirt to my nose and take in the smell of fabric softener and cheap cologne. I slide it over my head and pull it down to cover my hips, the tee fitting me perfectly.
A yawn escapes me, and I can’t wait to hit the sheets. As I go to shut the drawer, something catches, stopping me. I attempt to push harder. Nothing. I grab an armful of shirts out of the drawer and toss them to the floor next to me.
Just Exes Page 15
