The Girl's Got Secrets (Forbidden Men #7)(109)

“That’s okay,” I assured her. “I can just drop it by to you if you’re home, and you can give it to him when he gets there.”

“Oh! Well, sure.” She suddenly sounded relieved, and I narrowed my eyes because I knew she was lying to me. “In that case...” As she rattled her address off, I climbed onto my bike. “Thanks. Be there in a bit,” I told her before cutting the line and starting my ride.

I made it to Remy’s building in record time. After jogging up the stairs to her second-floor apartment, I drummed on the door until her roommate answered.

Jodi flashed me an uneasy smile as she poked only her head out into the hall. “Hey, sexy.” Then her eyebrows crinkled as she glanced at my empty arms where I had my hands buried in my pockets. “Uh...what did you have to drop off for Remy?”

“Nothing,” I answered. “I lied.” Then I slid a hand from the pocket to push on her door, letting her know I was coming in.

She didn’t try to stop me but stumbled backward, letting me barge right on in as she gaped at me with wide eyes. “Oh, um...what?”

“Is she really not here or did you lie about that too?” I asked.

Her mouth fell open. Then she whispered, “Shit. You know.”

“Yeah.” I nodded slowly, glancing around the place for signs that the drummer I’d come to know actually resided here. But it looked like a typical living room that anyone could live in.

So I strode to a nearby hallway and started for the first half opened door I saw.

“Um...whatcha doing?” Jodi asked, scurrying behind me and trying to keep pace.

I wasn’t sure. I’d never bulldozed my way into a woman’s apartment before and just started searching it. I was going at this blind, half of my conscience telling me to stop and behave, the other half needing answers.

The first doorway I peered into was a bathroom, a clearly feminine bathroom with hair products and jewelry and all kinds of girly shit splashed all over the counter, though I did spot the spray-on deodorant I’d borrowed from Remy when we’d stayed together in Chicago.

Shit. Chicago. We’d done a lot of bonding in that hotel room. And the entire time, he’d never once thought it prudent to tell me he wasn’t a man.

I pushed toward the next door and reached inside to flip on a light. The breath caught in my lungs when I realized this was definitely his—her—room. Decorated in brilliant magenta, electric blue, and lime green colors, rock and drummer posters were splashed catawampus all over the walls. Posters of Neil Peart, posters that said “Keep Calm and Drum On,” posters that said “Stick to your dreams” with a pair of drumsticks on them, pictures of bands like Metallica, Iron Maiden, Alice in Chains...Incubus.

This was so Remy’s room. And yet a girl’s room. I swallowed when I saw a lacy white bra on the floor at the foot of her bed.

Jesus, she really was a female.

And that’s when I spotted it. A latex mask hanging from the footboard of her bed. A mask with Sticks’s face on it.

I snatched it up and immediately sneezed. But instead of flinging it aside, I curled my fingers around it, holding on tight.

In the doorway, Jodi had gotten her phone and was pounding out a text.

I sniffed and shook my head. “No,” I told her. “Oh, no you don’t. I didn’t get any fair warning about this, so neither does she.”

Jodi guiltily dropped the phone to her side. “She never meant to—” she started, but I held up a hand, stopping her.

“I don’t want to hear it from you. I want Remy to explain...everything.”

Worry lit her face as she bit her lip. “What’re you going to do?”

With a harsh laugh, I shook my head. “No idea.”

My mind wouldn’t stop spinning. I didn’t think I was pissed exactly. Well, some pissed, but mostly just confused.

I couldn’t figure out why...why would she pretend to be a guy? It didn’t make any sense. And why hadn’t she felt like she could tell me? I thought Sticks and I had gotten close enough that he—she—could confide in me the way I’d confided—

Oh, hell. I suddenly remembered all the shit I’d told her since we’d met. Most of it was probably stuff I wouldn’t have admitted to a woman, like how much I love eating * and—oh, Jesus! I’d treated her like I would one of my guy friends, calling her f*cker and loser, and *. Holy mother, I would never call a woman any of those names.

And then I remembered telling her about Incubus shirt girl. My head really went all over the place with that one. I’d talked to her about her! Why hadn’t she said anything? She knew how I’d reacted to Incubus shirt girl, how I’d looked for her for months. Or, wait. Had she known how I’d looked for her? Maybe I hadn’t mentioned that part. I’d only tried to convey how much I wanted to be over the entire ordeal, so maybe I’d made her feel as if she couldn’t tell me because I’d made her believe I’d wanted nothing to do with her—as a woman.

But none of that explained why she’d gone incognito as a man in the first place.

Down the hall, the apartment door came open and someone called, “Hey, hooker. I’m home, and I come bearing food. Double chocolate fudge ice cream. You are so helping me eat this.”

I blew out a breath. That was definitely Remy’s voice. All my questions were about to be answered. Jodi and I silently watched each other as we listened to footsteps move to the kitchen, probably to drop off the ice cream.