My Killer Vacation(72)

I’m not going to disintegrate walking into my brother’s or parents’ home. They want me there, despite this failure I’m carrying around my neck like an albatross. Seeing Taylor with Jude made me think of my own family throughout the week. What I’m missing. How they would act on a snorkeling trip. Probably ridiculing the size of my feet. Or my parents and I would gang up on Kevin, claiming to have seen a shark. The typical asshole behavior I grew up with and shaped me and it’s not perfect, but it’s ours.

I’m not perfect…but I’m still theirs.

I could have been hers. She told me she could easily love me. That must mean I’m not beyond saving, right?

Maybe it’s time to believe my family when they say they still want me around.

That I’m…worth having around.

“I’m in Massachusetts. Cape Cod, actually. I could…swing by.”

My brother says nothing for long moments. “Really.”

“Yeah. For a visit or whatever. I could do that.”

“Last time we spoke, you told me you’d come back to Boston when hell froze over. What changed?”

“I, uh…I don’t know.” My chest winds up like a clock. “I met this woman.”

“Oh. Shit.” There’s a smile in his voice. “I didn’t see that coming.”

“You and me both.”

“You’re the guy who always said women are a hassle, right?”

“That was me,” I sigh, massaging my eye sockets.

“Just making sure.” He chuckles. “What’s the problem? Bring her with you for this visit.”

“Seeing as how we just broke up, that’s going to be hard. I mean…” I stand up and start to pace from one end of the motel room to the other. “We weren’t even technically dating. She was a suspect on a case I’m working on as a favor. It’s a long story. Bottom line is, she got sick of my shit and…you know. It’s for the best.”

“Yeah. Sounds like it’s for the best. You’re on the verge of tears.”

“The fuck I am.”

I might actually be pretty close to crying.

“Whatever your version of tears is, you’re verging there.”

Rolling my eyes, I cross back to the other side of the room. “This is what I get for calling you for advice, I guess.”

“Advice? On women? Did you forget I’m married to a fellow ball scratcher?”

“No.” I plow a hand through my hair. “How is he, anyway?”

“Fine.” The way his voice shifts, I know his husband is sitting next to him. “Still sneaking protein powder into everything I eat and wearing running shorts literally everywhere we go.” He pauses. “What’s your girl like?”

An image of her rises in my mind, the way she looked on day one. In a bikini top and shorts, no shoes, sun kissed and sweet and secretly wanting rough sex. Basically a miracle on two shapely legs, dropped into my lap from heaven. “She’s a second grade private school teacher from Connecticut. She’s…well.” The lump in my throat expands. “Beautiful is an understatement. She’s a planner. A caretaker. Always making sure everyone eats and has enough coffee. Smart as hell. Brave. She also cries a lot, but in a way that, I don’t know…it’s just fucking cute, all right? She’s stubborn and mischievous.” I turn and bang my head against the wall, which shakes loose the part I didn’t mean to say out loud. “She blows my mind in bed.”

“Christ, you’re a lot more open and honest than you used to be.”

The tips of my ears burn. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I can’t wait to use that information against you at a later date.” Kevin laughs. “So where are you now? And where is she?”

I turn in a circle, looking around. Nothing is familiar because I spent all of my time working or with her. “I’m in my motel room in Cape Cod. She’s back at her rental house.”

“Drive your ass over there and apologize for whatever you did.”

“How do you know I’m in the wrong?” He says nothing. “Fine. It was me. All me. But I can’t just go over there and apologize. Apologizing doesn’t make us compatible. Did you miss the part about her being a teacher in Connecticut? My next job is in North Carolina. Then who the hell knows where. Taylor wants to get married. Be a parent. Settle down and be happy.”

“Sounds terrible. Who wants to be happy? Gross.”

I curse under my breath. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“Yes, I am, asshole. What sounds better to you? Going back out on the road like some damaged desperado? Or moving in with your teacher and waking up naked with her?”

Oh. Oh sweet Jesus.

I never got a chance to wake up with her head on the pillow beside mine. She’d be so warm and snuggly. And horny for morning sex. She’d be so hot on top, those hips rocking up and back, our bellies slipping together. Sweaty. Afterward, I’d kiss her everywhere. Just kiss her all the way down to her toes while she laughed—and I am so completely ruined.

I’m decimated.

“Damaged desperado really rolled off the tongue,” I manage to push through my crowded throat. “Is that what you’ve been calling me since I left?”