“When?”
“Two nights ago.”
“Were you drunk?”
“Hell yes.”
“What are you trying to do, man? Kill yourself? Or somebody else?”
“Naw. That bitch ain’t worth that.”
Ah. It all became staggeringly clear. “Great. When did she take off?”
“Fuck her.”
“Okay. But will you look at yourself? It’s no wonder she split. I want to leave you too, and I don’t even have to live with you.”
“So leave.” Gus flicked a hand at him, turning his face toward the back of the couch again and throwing his arm over his head. “I don’t give a shit.”
This scene was so damn familiar, Ghost’s hands began to shake. Except he had been the one in his friend’s place. Brian had been the one trying to drag him kicking and screaming, fighting and cursing, back to the world of the living.
He had to turn away, fighting to fill his lungs with air. Old wounds he’d thought long since healed threatened to rip open and ooze again. Words he didn’t want to remember ricocheted in his brain, replacing Macy’s sweet sounds of pleasure that had been echoing there all day.
Brooke explaining to him over the phone why she’d left him. Her f**king weak-ass excuses. Each one of them an insult after the sheer magnitude of what she’d done to him.
It had been so long ago, it shouldn’t have still been so close to the surface. But it was. It could be triggered by the simple sound of a particular voice…and not even hers. He hadn’t spoken a single word to her in six years.
No other woman had ever f**ked with his head like that. Not Raina. No one. No one ever would again. He’d all but sworn it in blood.
“You gotta get over this shit, man,” he said, hearing the tremor in his own voice. Who was he to give that advice?
He was someone who knew how the guilt, the I-should-haves and the raw sense of betrayal could eat a guy alive, if he sat around and let it fester.
“I don’t even know what she did,” he went on, “and I don’t care. Let it go.”
“It’s not even about—”
“Don’t dick me around. I know exactly what it’s about. You do this every time. I’m just amazed you’re coherent.”
“Give me time.”
Oh goddamn. Did he have to go and say that out loud? Ghost turned around and shoved his boot down hard on the couch cushion Gus was lying on. “Look, if I have to haul you back to my place and sit on you until you dry out, I will.” And you really have no idea how much I don’t want to do that. I’m supposed to get spectacularly laid tonight. He could already feel the anticipation draining away…until a miraculous flash of inspiration struck him. “Or better yet, I can dump you out at your dad’s.”
Gus’s dad was a cop, and a big one at that. Hell, even Ghost was scared of him.
That got a reaction. “No friggin’ way, man. You call my dad, and I’ll kick your ass.”
“That’s funny. Look, if you really don’t give a shit about life anymore, do what you gotta do. I know from experience nothing I say or do is going to change anything. But I’ll tell you one thing—you skip out on practice Saturday, and you seal your fate with the guys. They’re done. So am I. Think about that while you’re prioritizing.”
Gus was silent as Ghost stalked across the room. He switched off the light, bathing the room in the darkness Gus craved, before slamming the door behind him.
And breathed. That house had been…oppressive. Like the dark cloud hanging over his friend had begun to permeate his skin.
Fucking relationship drama. God, if there was one thing he didn’t need. He’d had it in spades, and if Macy hadn’t seemed like such a practical person with a decent head on her shoulders, he might have called off tonight no matter how his genitals might protest.
He pulled out his cell phone and, feeling like a tattletale, called Gus’s parents to let them know they needed to check on him. His friend would want to kill him for it, but better that he was alive to do so.
And…well, that was all there was to do. Practice had been a bust. He’d been confronted with a pathetic ugliness he hadn’t needed to see. But now he was done. Free at last. For a guy who wanted no strings with a girl, he was sure chomping at the bit to get to this one.
Chapter Eight
Macy’s phone rang, and she leaped halfway across the living room to snatch it up. All night, she’d kept it within arm’s reach, and of course he picked the one moment she put it down to call.
“I was starting to think you’d changed your mind,” she said by way of greeting.
“Sorry about that. Had to handle some business with a friend.”
“Everything okay?”
“Not really, but it will be as soon as I see you.”
So he could talk sweet as well as sexy. She smiled and settled the phone between her ear and her shoulder. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
“My place or yours?”
Considering she’d spent the evening cleaning like crazy? There was no way she was going to put all that effort to waste. Not that she was a slob, but she very rarely actually dusted. “Mine. Do you know where I live?”
“Are you kidding? I hide out underneath your bedroom window every night. I was really there last night, watching you.”
She laughed. “Oh, really.”
“No. What’s your address?”
She gave him quick directions, and he said he knew the building.
No going back now, was there? Well, she supposed she could, but…who would want to?
“Are you dressed?” he asked.
“Hey now, we did all that last night. Let’s just wait—”
“No, you goof. I meant are you decently attired such that we might go into public without getting arrested.”
Public? “Oh. Yeah, I’m dressed.”
“Cool. I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.” He hung up.
Okaaay. Nothing had been said about any public appearances. This wasn’t a date. What on earth did he have in mind?
She was staring out her living room window exactly eighteen minutes later when his GTO purred its way into the parking space in front of her apartment. Purse already in hand, she bolted for the door, excitement churning through her belly.
Seth was already out of the car and striding around to the other side to open the door for her. She almost stopped in her tracks. He looked good enough to eat. And demand seconds. Tight black V-neck T-shirt, leather jacket and ratty jeans that broke over his boots just the right way. On his head was a black Fedora. He was definitely a guy who could pull off hats.
Dayum. Maybe she could take him somewhere after all.
“Wow,” she said as she skirted around the door he held open. “You look great.”
“Wow yourself,” he said, his lopsided grin wreaking havoc with things down south.
Did they really have to go anywhere?
When the clean smell inside his car unleashed a torrent of flashbacks, she put the question to him as soon as he got in the driver’s side. He planted his arm across the seatback and turned to look out the rear window as he backed out. The position gave her a great view of his neck. How she wanted to nibble that thick vein, lick it, feel his pulse throbbing inside.