Wherever It Leads(66)

“That’s not what you said the last time my cock was hard.”

“No, I believe I told you to slide it inside my wet—”

“Brynne . . .”

“What?” I grin.

“Don’t talk like that if I’m not there.”

“Why? I’m simply reliving a memory.”

He snorts, knowing I’m doing way more than reliving a memory. I’m winding him up, listening to him respond to me. It’s something I’ll never tire of, a methamphetamine that I’m addicted to.

“Did you have a good day?” he asks, changing the subject.

“No. My day has been absolutely horrible.”

“Why’s that?”

Taking a deep breath, I consider not telling him. But if I’m going to find out if he wants to even try things with me with my life how it is, then I may as well be honest. “We received a video today of my brother.” The words sound like they’re coming from someone else. “It was awful. They hit him with a gun . . . My mom had to go to the doctor for sedatives to keep her from losing her mind. My father is trying to get a ticket to Africa.”

“He shouldn’t do that.”

“That’s your response?” I pull my brows together. “I tell you all that and you say my dad shouldn’t go?”

He, too, blows out a breath. “I’m just saying he shouldn’t make the situation worse. What will he do there? He needs to stay put and be with you and your mother and let the experts find your brother.”

“I agree. But we’ll see what happens. It’s been hard to have a lot of faith in the so-called experts.”

A long stretch of silence descends on us and I can only hear his breathing. I wonder where he is and what he’s doing and what he’s thinking—but I don’t ask. I wait for him to make the next move.

“Can I see you tonight?” he asks finally, his voice low. “I know you’ve had a shitty day and I’m sorry for that. But let me try to help you. Let me hold you.”

I settle back on my bed and look at the ceiling. Being in his arms is the best medicine I can think of, but I can’t just let this situation be skirted over. I have to remember why I didn’t see him last night and stay true to myself. Stay strong. “Honestly, Fenton. I have a lot of questions.”

“I’m sure you do.”

I can hear the indignation in his exhale. He doesn’t want to answer my questions or give me an explanation, and that takes my frustration up a couple four notches.

“I know you want to know the odds of you and Grant showing up at Pano.”

“Yes. That would be a good start. And also why you bothered to arrange that . . . however you arranged that.”

“I get it. There’s a list.”

“Of course there’s a list. And I need some transparency here. This thing between us started off as a weekend getaway and the weekend is over—not even mentioning because you cut it short—and you’re still calling me and interfering in my life.”

“Interfering? Is that what you think I was doing?”

“Yes,” I sigh. “Kind of. It all depends on why you did it.”

Giving him a chance to interject, to come forward and volunteer the information, I pause. But it doesn’t happen. I suck in a hasty breath and get ready to play hardball because as sinful as he is and as much as I really, really want to be with him again, I’m not going to be bowled over by anyone.

“Why does it matter?” he asks.

I pop myself up on my elbows. “It doesn’t unless you want to see me again. If you’re just a rebound—”

“A what?”

“A rebound. If you and I are just f*ck buddies, then I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“I loathe that term, Brynne,” he bites out.

“Loathe it all you want. It’s the truth,” I say, holding on to my courage as tightly as I can. “I’m just telling you . . . I’m telling you that I really enjoy being with you. And that you have the power to flip me all around. When I went to Vegas, it was to make a fresh break from my life before, to get a new baseline, and have some fun. Easy peasy. But you’re so easy to be around that it makes it completely not easy.”

I pause, feeling my way through this. The feeling of vulnerability makes my stomach weak, a feeling I dislike more than many others. But I am vulnerable to him, and if this has any potential of going anywhere, he needs to at least realize that and decide if he wants that responsibility.

“I don’t know how to process you ensuring I see Grant at your restaurant, Fent. How am I supposed to read that? You tell me you can’t see me and then you go off and make it so I don’t see anyone else without you there. That’s not fair.”

“Brynne, there was a reason for that.”

“Then tell me!”

“I will. See me.”

Lying back on my bed, I take a deep breath and hold it before letting it trickle out of my lungs a wisp at a time.

“I know what you’re saying,” he voices. “I realize how confused you might be.”

“Might be?”

“Brynne . . .” he sighs. “I want to give you answers. But I don’t want to do it over the phone.”