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Unable to deny the tacos, especially if he got them from the Mexican place he’s taken me to a couple of times, I reluctantly allow Brax access before unlocking my front door.
I’m in the kitchen opening a beer when he marches through my apartment like he owns the place with a knowing smirk playing on his lips and a brown paper bag tucked under his arm.
Drinking more alcohol is the last thing my body needs right now, but for once, I don’t care about what I’m putting inside it or about being in peak condition. It’s not mid-season. I can have a few days where I say fuck it and give into temptation while I wallow in self-pity.
“Ah, I see you woke up this morning and decided to make better choices.”
“Fuck off, Whitlock. I want the tacos, not the attitude.”
“Well, unlucky for you, you get both.”
The second he lowers the bag to the counter, I snatch it and drag it closer.
Immediately, I rip it open and reach inside for a container.
Inside lie two delicious tacos, and for the first time today, I’m able to think about something other than Effie and last night.
In seconds, I have one out of the container and in my mouth.
I groan in delight before devouring it as if I haven’t eaten in weeks.
“Jesus,” Brax mutters as he takes a seat at my island and watches me in horror. “You’re a hell of a lot messier than my date tonight.”
I glance at the clock.
“If you’re here at nine o’clock after a date, I’d say you have bigger issues than how politely she eats.”
“Maybe she’s a good girl.”
“Then what the fuck is she doing with you?” I counter.
He smiles at me but doesn’t say anything else.
“I was coming to see how you were doing, but I can see that from the state of you.”
“If I want your opinion on my life, I’ll ask for it.”
“Wow, you really are full of rainbows and sunshine tonight, huh?”
“Fuck off.”
“Uh…nah. I think I’m okay here for a bit.”
I glare at him, both annoyed as hell and relieved that he’s turned up to check on me.
I don’t know if I said anything to clue him into why he had to carry me out of a bar last night, but from the knowing look in his eyes, I’d say that he’s more than aware.
“So…”
“You’re an asshole,” I scoff, reaching for the other taco.
“Takes one to know one. Now, start talking.”
“Nothing to say.”
He raises a brow.
“She’d been back for four days, Brax. Four fucking days and she didn’t tell me. And then when I confronted her about it, she told me to leave.”