Wait With Me (Wait With Me, #1)(60)

“Don’t be a pig, Dryston.”

“Don’t be a bitch, Katie.”

I eye him with a cold glare, my posture stiffening at his combative tone. Through clenched teeth, I ask, “What do you want?”

He leans across the corner of the table and slides a finger along my upper arm. “I want to come home.”

“No!” I exclaim, yanking myself back from his touch. “Dryston, we’re broken up. Your shit is in storage. There’s absolutely no reason for you to come back to the house.”

“Well, it’s fucking bullshit that you moved it without my permission. If anything is damaged, I’m making you pay for it.”

“Fine! Send me the bill. I don’t care.”

He laughs haughtily. “So I suppose you’re fucking someone new now, and that’s why you’re giving me the cold shoulder?”

“That’s not why,” I snap, my eyes fierce on his. “I want you gone because I can’t stand you, and I don’t feel like living with my ex who turned out to be a total douchebag.”

“How was I a douchebag?” he asks, his jaw dropping with indignation.

“Many, many reasons!” I exclaim, feeling the veins in my neck bulge. “But the one that is my absolute favorite is you being ashamed of me to your family. We’d been together for almost two years, and you wanted me to lie to them about what I do for a living.”

He shakes his head. “Well, my family is religious, and what you do isn’t exactly wholesome, Katie.”

I roll my eyes, murmuring under my breath, “Frickin’ weak.”

He growls back, “Well, you don’t get to just kick me out of our house. Our lease doesn’t end for another seven months.”

“Let me buy you out then!” I exclaim, my eyes wide and accusing on him. “My best friend lives next door. The only reason I even found that place was because of her. Stop being so selfish and find somewhere else to live! Or move in with your buddy. Your stuff is all packed up and ready to go.”

He sits back in his chair and snaps, “I don’t even have a car that’ll tow a storage pod.”

My face crumples with disbelief at his idiotic comment. “They deliver it, Dryston. And don’t worry, I’ll pay for that too. Heaven forbid, you have to dip into your trust fund.”

He cuts a mean look at me. “You can be a real cunt, you know that?”

“And dirty, so you better run away before you catch my erotica stank!” I wiggle my fingers toward him in dramatic fashion when a deep, familiar voice sounds off from beside me.

“What the fuck did you call her?”

I look up, and my heart falls through the floor when I see Miles Hudson standing right next to me.





Normally, I avoid places like West End Tavern. They’re usually overflowing with people who are all trying too hard to have a good time. A good time shouldn’t be something you have to go to great lengths to have. It should come naturally.

But tonight, I’m itching to get my mind off Mercedes and her lack of communication, so I follow Sam up the stairs to the West End Tavern’s rooftop. The noise and music are lively, and it’s busy, but not so busy that I regret my decision to venture out.

Sam sees a couple of guys we know from the shop, so we make our way over to the bar. After ordering a couple of beers, I look to my right and see a familiar brunette down at the end of the bar.

Mercedes’s friend’s eyes find mine at the exact same time and go wide with surprise. “Miles?” Lynsey says with a smile and waves her hand at me.

I give her a nod and hold my place at the bar as she makes her way over to me. The bartender is just handing me a bottle when she reaches me.

She presses in beside me and beams up excitedly. “What are you doing here?”

“Here with my buddy,” I reply, gesturing behind me to Sam. “What about you?” I ask, fighting the urge I have not to do a sweep of the patio in search of a redhead I miss more than I’m even ready to admit.

Lynsey pokes me in the stomach and replies, “I’m here with Kate! What are the odds?”

I frown down at her. “Who’s Kate?”

Her eyes go wide, and her smile falls as she looks down for a moment. Slowly, her eyes lift to an area over my shoulder, so I turn to see what’s got her so freaked out.

At that moment, I see red.

Literally and figuratively.

My hand tightens around my beer bottle when I spot Mercedes sitting at a table with some guy. This would annoy me under normal circumstances. But that fact that I recognize this douchebag from the tire shop, Mr. Green Shirt Fucking Prick, means that I’m not just annoyed. I’m fucking pissed.

And they aren’t merely sitting across from each other like a couple of old friends who ran into each other. He’s sitting right next to her, his seat scooted over, so their legs are touching. And he’s leaning in so goddamn close he can smell her lip gloss.

Sam must pick up on my mood shift because he catches my eyes with a confused frown. I head nod to what I’m looking at, and I know he instantly recognizes the prick too.

Sam looks back at me. “Is that…?”

I nod slowly.

“And is she talking to…?”

I nod slowly again.

“What the fuck, bro?”