London Falling (Falling #2)(25)

“London is Maid of Honor,” he said, his voice holding a tone, something between Don’t-be-stupid and Opportunity-doesn’t-knock-twice.

“So how’s the weather in Texas this time of year? Will I need a jacket or a snow suit?”

“That’s what I thought.” I could hear his grin through the phone line. Bastard knew he had me by the balls.



***

What the hell was I thinking?

Simple answer. I wasn’t. Collier did that to me. An evening of pure sexual delight and I was contemplating more. More! I didn’t do more. More made people fall in love and I most certainly was never going down that road again. That road was unpaved, had huge pot holes, and jagged rocks that would fly out and break your heart as easily as an unsuspecting windshield.

When James passed I made a promise to myself. Nothing would ever hurt me like his loss. Ever again. If I was going to feel that kind of pain, I’d learn from it, and learn from it I did.

Relationships were not for people like me.

I decided to go home to think awhile before heading back into Dylan’s world. It was important I had a clear head and heart to do my job effectively. And he wouldn’t be home from his trip until later anyway. Maybe I’d get him to scout furniture with me. A solid find always had a way of picking up my spirits.

The apartment was silent when I got there. It was still early. Tripp would be in bed. His door was wide open and I prayed he’d be alone. Usually if the door was open it was our signal that we weren’t entertaining.

Typically, I didn’t bring men home with me. They didn’t often take kindly to Tripp and he enjoyed playing with my dates the moment they entered our sanctuary.

I, on the other hand, ignored his toys. They rarely were invited back and I found it unnecessary to get attached to disposable bedmates.

I slipped off my dress and bra then grabbed the t-shirt I saw crumbled on the floor. It smelled of Tripp. Like fruity and delicious green apples. DKNY Be Delicious was the brand. The sweet scent of apples combined with his herbal undertones was like taking a step into your home after a long trip. He’d always be a safe home-like place for me. And I endeavored to always be one for him.

The last few years it had only been the two of us. We met in the hallway at the local community center. James had passed a few months before and I was attending a meeting for grieving widows. Tripp was attending Narcotics Anonymous. He was only a few months into his own recovery. Between us, we were like the walking dead. Two lifeless shells, devoid of any real feeling. Then we teamed up. Together we were able to stick a band-aid over our past wounds. Sometimes it was in one another’s bodies, but mostly it was through a deep friendship. He helped me live again. And I helped him have a reason to live.

I threw the shirt on and slid into bed next to him. He slept naked and his warmth was the most comfortable place in the world. Well, that and the crook of space where my head fit perfectly into Collier’s neck and shoulder.

Tossing out that thought I snuggled closer to my best friend. His arm flung over my waist pulling me close, chest-to-chest. He burrowed his huge arm under the back of the shirt I was wearing and rubbed my spine. I arched and purred into his caress. He kissed my forehead, eyes still closed as if asleep.

“What’s the matter?” His voice was groggy. He didn’t open his eyes, just held me and rested against my body. The tips of his fingers massaged my scalp, soothing the stress as I held onto him.

“I screwed up.” The words came out small and quiet but I knew he heard them.

He mumbled something against my forehead. I only caught the last bit. "…did something with Bond,” he finished.

I nodded against his chest. Tears pooled and slipped down my cheeks wetting his skin. That got his attention.

“Bridge, baby. What happened?” He held me as the dam broke and I sobbed, unable to bring forth the words I needed to say.

“Did he hurt you? I’ll f*cking kill him.” His entire body tightened like a rubber-band pulled too far at opposite ends. I clung to him, wanting, trying to get the words out.

“No, h-he didn’t h-hurt me,” I whispered as more tears streamed down my face. He kissed them away.

“Did you hurt him?” Tripp knew me too well. Sympathy poured from him as he clenched me tight against his body. “It can’t be that bad. You only had one night.”

“It was the best night of my life.”

It hurt so much to say that. So many nights I had with James ought to fill that spot so high on a pedestal, but it was true. One night with Collier surpassed even the height of the nights of my marriage. Maybe I was starting to forget. My wedding day, the first time James and I made love, all vied for clarity, but the memories were growing old, worn from overuse. Now they seemed as if they happened a century ago. Only the memory of feeling happy could be brought to the surface with ease.

His eyebrows rose and shock plastered his face. “That’s a strong statement.”

I nodded and sighed.

“Then why are you upset? What brought you to my bed? Not that I mind. I love snuggling with my best girl.” He pulled me up and over his naked body. Sprawled across his chest, I placed one hand on top of the other on his chest then rested my chin on him. I couldn’t stop my lips from quivering or the tears from spilling as he searched my eyes for the answer.

“I gave him hope.”