The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(100)

“Hayden. You get out here right now!” I demand.

“Go away,” she yells, and I can hear in her voice that she’s crying.

My heart drops . . . she’s upset.

Adrenaline is pumping through my veins, and I drag my hands through my hair as I try to calm myself down. I begin to pace up and down the hallway.

What the fuck just happened?

6:00 a.m.

I’m beat. Didn’t sleep a wink all night, and I still haven’t seen Hayden.

God knows what the hell she’s doing in there.

I write on a piece of paper and put the note on the table near the front door.

Gone for a run,

Back soon.

Xo

I tiptoe out the door and close it behind me as quietly as I can. I get in the elevator and press the ground-floor button.

I need to see my brothers.



Twenty minutes later, the car pulls up to the curb, and I get out and walk. I pass a newsstand on the street and see that they have postcards. I pick two New York ones up. “I’ll take these, please,” I say to the salesman.

“Sure thing.” He bags them up and hands them over, and I put them into my inside pocket. I’ll send these to Eddie later. I’ve been sending him postcards from all over the world. He collects them.

Eddie would fucking love my apartment.

Speaking of which, I’ll call him now. I dial his number as I walk up the street. “Hi, Mr. Christo,” he answers.

“Hey, little buddy.” I smile. “What’s poppin’?”

“Nothing, on my way to work. Running late.”

I can hear that he’s walking fast.

“How was the flight?”

Infuriating.

“Good, good,” I lie. “What time you working until tonight?”

“Close.”

I roll my eyes. Why the fuck do they put a kid on the closing shift? I’ll never know. I glance at my watch to do a time check. “I’ll let you get to it. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Okay, sounds good.”

“It’s good to hear your voice, man.” I smile.

“You too.”

I hang up and cross the street and walk into the café to see Jameson and Tristan sitting at the back, and they both laugh and stand. I smile and almost run to them.

Thank god.

“Hey.” They laugh as they both pull me into a hug. “If it isn’t Romeo himself,” they tease.

I drop into the chair. There are three coffees sitting on the table. They must have been here for a while.

“How was it?” Jameson asks.

“Great, amazing. Incredible.”

Tristan frowns. “So what’s the emergency?”

I called them both early this morning. I needed to talk to someone. I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale in exasperation. “I told Hayden who I was yesterday.”

“And?”

“She went fucking batshit crazy!”

They frown. “What do you mean?”

“I mean . . .” I shrug, lost for words. “This girl—and I’m not exaggerating—is the calmest, most stable, and sweetest human I’ve ever met. I’ve never seen her get ruffled over anything, I mean fucking anything. There is just no temper there . . . or so I thought.”

They listen intently.

“I told her who I was just before the car came to collect us.”

“Why did you leave it so late?” Jameson frowns. “I thought the plan was that you were telling her last week.”

“I was going to . . .” My voice trails off. “In hindsight I should’ve.”

“So then what happened?” Tristan asks.

“I told her who I was, and she went silent. Didn’t speak to me all the way home for twelve fucking hours, and then when we got to my apartment, she went off on a tangent, bringing up bullshit.”

“Like what?” Jameson asks.

“Said she didn’t want to sleep in my bedroom because it was a Tinder auditorium and the women’s moans were sunk into the paint on the walls.”

“She does have a point.” Tristan raises his eyebrows as if considering the statement. “Your entire apartment smells like sex,” he teases.

“I like her already.” Jameson chuckles.

“This isn’t funny,” I snap.

“Sorry.” Jameson tries to straighten his face. “Go on. What happened then?”

I exhale heavily. “She started bringing up my past and chucked the tantrum of all tantrums, marched downstairs, and slept in the spare room.”

They both frown as they stare at me. “When she calmed down, what did she say?”

“Nothing.”

“You didn’t try and talk to her?”

“No. Why would I?” I snap. “I did nothing wrong.”

“You lied to her . . . for twelve fucking months,” Tristan scoffs. “What did you expect?”

“Not this, that’s for sure. And I didn’t lie to her; I just left some minor details out.”

I fall silent, not sure what to say next.

“Well . . . I guess you did it,” Jameson says dryly as he sips his coffee. “Mission accomplished.”

“Did what?” I sigh.