A Dirty Business (Kings of New York #1)(53)

Why? Why would he do that?

There was a reason. I loved my uncle, but there was a reason for everything he did.

“I need to deal with Remmi, and then I’ll come around.”

“Let’s do lunch. I’ll cook.”

“Sounds great.” It didn’t sound great.

We hung up, and when I got to my office, I was in a mood.

For one moment, I stopped, and I was back in the car with Jess on Saturday.

That drive to her place was a bubble. A brief moment in time where we were in between who she was and who I was, and we were able to connect for a shared purpose. I felt like I’d been given a gift because she wasn’t tense with me. It was like she gave herself permission during that drive to be herself, and it’d been the best car ride I’d ever been on.

We laughed. We talked. We were friends, and when I drove to her place, she was quiet for a long time. She didn’t leave the car, so I pulled over on the street. She had an hour to get to work, and I offered her a ride. I’d been expecting her to say no, and I think she was going to, but after a moment’s hesitation, she accepted. While she went upstairs to dress, I waited in the car. It was her request. She came back fifteen minutes later, but when I started to put the car into drive, she stopped me.

“Can we not? This is . . .” She looked out the window and swallowed her words before looking back to me. Such sad eyes. “Can we stay a little longer like this?”

We did. There was no conversation this time.

But a moment, a pocket of time, it was just the two of us.

I wanted that back so badly right now.

“What are you doing?”

My office door was opened, and Remmi stood in the doorway, an air of irritation swimming around her. Her dark eyes were heavily made up. She was wearing black leather pants and a black sweater that wrapped tightly around her body, and she had on those hoop earrings she always wore during college. I didn’t know why I was cataloging any of this. Maybe for extra time. Because I knew I’d be going from one fight to another fight right after this. They might not look like fights. They might not sound like fights, but they were. There was a push-pull dynamic going on under the surface. Remmi would want something. I would probably not want to give it, the same with Uncle Steph, but in his instance, I always gave it.

I gave it because I had to, and I had never wanted to see what would happen if I didn’t do what Uncle Steph wanted. Looking at Remmi right now, I don’t know the reason, but today was the very first day I was starting to question when that day would happen.

“Hello, sister.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE


JESS


I was lying in bed Monday night, wired from the day but trying to will my body to sleep, when my phone buzzed.

Trace: Did you unblock me yet?

Trace: Also, I know you did but the circumstances weren’t great so I’m pretending that this is the first time you unblocked me. Hi.

I stifled a grin, because he was right.

Me: I did.

It’d been nice seeing him on Saturday. The car ride back to the city was even nicer.

That wall I’d built against him took a hit on Saturday. A crack formed, and a piece crumbled on Sunday, and another today for the mere fact that I missed him.

It was just texting, I was telling myself.

Only texting.

My chest tightened. I knew I was lying to myself, but my resolve was starting to weaken.

Me: Why are you texting tonight?

Trace: Because I had a shitty day and a rumor got to me that your roommate moved out?

I frowned.

Me: How did you hear that?

Trace: It was a big deal at the party on Saturday. Viv told Ashton, and Ashton just told me. You okay?

Me: She’s not moved yet, but it almost doesn’t feel different. She’s gone during the night at his place anyways. I’ll have less furniture.

Trace: It’s a big change, right?

Me: It is. It’ll be fine. Kelly’s still my best friend. That won’t change. Why was your day shitty?

Trace: Family.

Me: Don’t want to talk about it?

Trace: I did. Family. That word alone signifies shitty.

I barked out a laugh before covering my mouth.

Me: I understand that mantra.

Trace: See. I knew texting you would be a good idea. I feel understood.

Me: I’m glad you feel understood.

Trace: I want to ask you what you’re wearing right now, but I’m assuming that’ll be pushing this . . .

I groaned because now my body was heating up.

Me: I’ve got a gun.

Trace: You’re saying that’s all you’re wearing? Your gun? That’s hot.

Stifling another laugh, I heaved a deep breath because this was going from a bad idea to an even worse idea.

Me: That’s not what I meant, but I’m going to sleep. Good night. I’m sorry your day was shitty.

Trace: You made my night better.

Trace: Can I text tomorrow night?

I responded the next morning.

Me: Yes.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX


JESS


It was three nights later when my phone lit up. I grabbed it, not looking at the screen, because let’s be honest—I was hoping it was Trace.

“Hello?” I was in bed, trying to fall asleep, or that’s another lie I was telling myself. I was in bed, but I was hoping for another night of texts.