Dream Chaser (Dream Team, #2)(8)

Fuck it.

I wasn’t going to cry because Boone showed strong signs that he’d be a delicious Dom.

I wasn’t going to cry because, even if it was vaguely fucked up, finding that shit out about Angelica was something he spent his time and resources doing what he said he was doing, looking out for me.

I also wasn’t going to cry because Lottie had Mo, and her serenity and contentment at finding a good man to love who loved her floated like pearlescent clouds around her everywhere she went.

And Evie had Mag, and the adoration they shared for each other sparkled like glitter anytime one was near the other.

And I had no one.

And I wanted someone, someone special, someone who would look out for me, someone who would partner with me to navigate life, someone who was mine.

No, I wasn’t going to cry for any of these reasons.

I wasn’t going to cry at all.

So I didn’t cry.

I gathered the pictures up, pivoted, and walked out my back door.





Chapter Two





Garden Party





Ryn


I was sitting on Angelica’s bed when she wandered out of her bathroom after her morning shower.

“Holy shit, Ryn!” she cried, jerking the lapels of her robe closed.

“So, is it an Aveda salon where you’re getting your facial today?” I asked conversationally. “I know you’re partial to Aveda, since I popped by there a couple of months ago to stock you up on your favorite hair-care products because I felt bad when you said you couldn’t afford them.”

The color drained from her face.

“I hope you don’t mind, I helped myself to the return of my money you’d already put in your wallet,” I told her.

She took a step toward me. “Ryn, I can ex—”

She halted when I stood up, picking up the photos I had on the bed beside me, and I spoke as I turned them her way and shuffled them, one after the other, showing her each.

“Now, here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna cancel your facial. You’re gonna go to the store and buy eggs, and bacon, and whole grain bread, and carrots, and other shit that’s good for the kids. Then, after you do the laundry, put shit away, and vacuum the freaking floors, you’re gonna dust off your résumé because, tomorrow, you’re gonna go out and look for a job.”

“You had someone follow me?” she asked, her gaze riveted to the pictures.

“No,” I answered. “Though someone who was concerned about me followed you. I didn’t ask for it and I didn’t know it, until he gave me these.”

I waved the photos.

She lifted a hand and shook it in the air. “Okay, I’ll admit, it was a crap thing to do.”

A crap thing to do?

Seriously?

“I just…” she went on. “Things changed so fast, with your brother. I mean that was a big blow, for the kids, for me. I needed some time—”

“Five years, Ang?”

“You don’t know,” she said miserably, and with not a small hint of accusation. “I fell in love with your brother in high school. There’s been no one but him for me. I—”

“No, I don’t know. I also don’t care. Bi-monthly massages, Angelica? Lunch with your girls? I don’t even want to think about how much cash you accepted from me, because honest to God, if I did, I’d rip your goddamn hair out. Cash I made fucking stripping.”

She took a step back and said, “Come off it, Ryn. Smithie’s is a huge hotspot. I know you make crazy-good dough there.”

“Yeah,” I bit out and slapped the photographs to my chest. “I do. I dance for money. I straddle creepy assholes’ laps for a fifty and a tip. How in the fuck have you twisted it in your head any of it should go to you?”

“Your brother fucked me over,” she spat.

“Is that what you call him giving you two thousand this month? Fucking you over?”

“Ohmigod!” she yelled. “How do you even know that?”

“Who cares!” I yelled back. “The pity party is over, Angelica. Taking your woes out on everyone around you is over. And if you don’t pull your head outta your ass, Mom sees these.” I waved the photos at her again. “And Brenda sees these,” I threatened her with her mom too.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

Oh yeah.

Brenda clearly spoiled her girl rotten.

But Brenda was good people.

She was also saving for retirement, a little house in a mature-persons’ development in Arizona. She even had the place picked out and was mentioning finding a job down there, selling her house here and going early, she was so sick of snow, and maybe, having a second family her daughter gave her to raise in her fifties.

So even Brenda would balk at Angelica being a straight-up grifter.

“Get your shit together. Get a job,” I demanded. “Pick up this house. Vacuum. Look after your children. Trust me, I know how much it sucks to have to grow up too fast to take on the role of an absent parent. Portia is facing that, times two. And one of her parents is camped out on the couch. Seriously, Ang, sort yourself out.”

“God, you know, it’s rich, you’re a fucking stripper, and you think you can stand in my house and act like you’re better than me?” she sneered.