Addicted for Now (Addicted #2)(23)

This is not the way to win a fight.

So I delete that text and rewrite: I’ll find you, you motherf*cker. Don’t ever doubt that. Send.

I pocket my phone and meet Rose’s moody gaze.

“What?” I say.

“You did exactly what I told you not to do, didn’t you?”

“Yep.”

She mutters under her breath, shaking her head. And as she leans out of the window to type in the key code, her eyes fall to something down below. I’m glad for the distraction. The phone feels less heavy in my jeans. I begin to shelve the texts in the back of my mind. On a normal day, I’d just go grab a bottle of Macallan and call it a night.

“Drop a bracelet?” I ask.

Her lips tighten.

“Worse than a bracelet? Damn, we’re at a DEFCON 1 then. Better prepare for nuclear war.”

She actually looks impressed. “You know what DEFCON means?”

“Yeah. I also know how to spell ‘duh’ and ‘hurry the f*ck up.’” I don’t add that X-Men uses a version of the term for an imminent mutant crisis. How I learned the facts shouldn’t matter anyway.

She shoots me the signature Rose Calloway glare—the one that looks like she’s two seconds from eating your soul. I glower back, but internally, I want to run the f*ck away. I don’t know how Connor smiles when she looks at him like that. She’s not bluffing. I bet she eats the hearts of every womanizer for the hell of it.

She flings her door open. “Wait here.”

Yeah, where else am I going to go?

She rummages out of sight for a minute, and curiosity gets the better of me. I unbuckle and stretch over the driver’s seat, peering down through the window.

Rose squats on the ground next to purple hydrangeas, ivy spindling up the iron gate beside the robust flowers. White petals flutter by her side, but her back blocks whatever’s in front of her.

“What are you doing?” I ask like she’s gone insane. I think there may be a screw loose in all of the Calloway girls. Well, maybe except Daisy. She seems pretty normal.

“He can’t just send me things and expect to be forgiven,” she says in a huff. “It doesn’t work like that.” She grunts a little, and more petals burst.

And then she stands and turns. She clutches the stems to what was a bouquet of white roses, but they look pathetic in her tight fist. Every petal has been ripped apart and fallen to the grass below.

“You just mauled a plant,” I say flatly. There’s something disturbing about this, and yet, I can’t help but laugh.

She glares harder. “Hold this.” She shoves a glass vase through the window.

“You’re not going to shatter it?” I ask. “All in the name of love? For your broken heart?”

“My heart isn’t broken.”

“I forgot, you’re made of steel. The bionic, unfeeling woman. Connor must love cuddling with your nuts and bolts.” I slip back to my seat.

She slams the car door, not even wasting another glare on me. She has yet to go for the worst look—the “I’m going to castrate you” one. I think she must be saving it for Connor. I am so glad I’m not him.

“What’d he do?” I ask. “Misspell your favorite word? Beat you in a game of Scrabble?”

She doesn’t say anything. She just retypes the code and puts the car in gear as the gate groans open. When the car rolls along the driveway towards the colonial house, it hits me.

“You can’t be serious,” I say. “You’re still angry at him because he gave me some beer months ago, when I wasn’t even planning on being sober?” I don’t want to ruin anyone else’s relationship. It’s why Lily and I closed off to people—so no one else had to get hurt because of our mistakes.

She pulls into the garage and turns off the ignition. “You wouldn’t understand.” She’s about to climb out of the car, but I lean over her and flick the lock, trapping her in the confines of the Escalade.

Connor told me not to defend him. Right after they had that fight in our living room, he took me aside and said to stay out of it. But I can’t let him be attacked for this. He was just being a friend in a time when I wouldn’t let anyone in my life.

“Give the guy a break,” I say. “He bends over backwards for you.”

Rose stares at me for a long moment, biting her gums, it seems. And then she tries to unlock the car again, but I beat her to the button, flicking it faster than she does.

“Loren,” she warns.

“Just say it,” I retort. “Say what you mean.” She doesn’t think I can handle it, but I can.

“You don’t understand,” she snaps. “Connor knew you were addicted, and he handed you beer. And you think that’s okay. You’re sitting there, telling me that it’s okay when it’s not. Do you see how wrong that is?”

“Rose, he didn’t do anything wrong.” I grimace as soon as I hear myself. And I understand immediately why Connor told me not to say a word in his defense. Because I am making a great case why he shouldn’t have given me an ounce of liquor. I’m the alcoholic—the one who believed I could live a life drinking every minute of every f*cking day. Vouching for Connor makes him look guilty. And maybe he is to some extent.