Page 15

“I don’t eat breakfast.”

What?

“Oh.”

“I mean, I don’t like breakfast. Obviously, I eat breakfast.”

“Well, I actually like cooking breakfast. It’s the easiest meal to cook. It’s hard to go wrong with pancakes or toast or eggs. Maybe a smoothie too, depending on how you’re feeling. Just dump a bag of frozen fruit into the blender with some milk and you’re set.”

I twist, looking back toward the building. Suddenly, the liquor sets fire to my blood, and I’m burning deep in my chest.

She’s stepped out from beneath the awning of the bar and lingers on the bottom step in the rain. Her hair is drenched, draping over her shoulders as the thick strands drip red-tinted water onto her shirt, staining it. I’ve always known she isn’t a redhead. The black roots that appear in between dyes tell on her.

The pink at the tip of her tiny nose is concerning. She could get sick standing out here talking to me. Johnny wouldn’t let me live that one down.

“You’re getting wet,” I blurt out.

Her round cheeks pinch when she smiles at me, a small laugh escaping. “That’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Go inside. I’ll text you tomorrow. No breakfast, but I’ll tell you when to move in.”

“Okay. That works.”

“Great.”

I turn around and start down the sidewalk. I’ll be too drunk to get home on my own if I don’t leave now.

“Bryce!” she shouts, and I stop automatically, waiting. “Get home safe.”

Thump.

With a weak wave, I leave. The movement in my stomach has to be from the booze. Not her.

The rain stoppedten minutes ago.

My lips are probably blue, but I don’t get up. The curb ishard against my ass, and the inside of my boots are full of water. I have a chill despite how hot I feel beneath my skin.

Victoria’s old house is behind me, the fence Poppy, Anna, and I painted pink out of spite a couple of years back brown again. The lawn is overgrown, weeds sticking up through the longest pieces. I fucking hate this house almost as much as the woman who doesn’t even live inside of it anymore.

She’s been gone for a while now. Off somewhere with the man she chose over me. I don’t love her anymore, but the wound she left is still there, just scarred over.

My first and only long-term relationship with a woman was torn out by the roots by a man. It wasn’t the start of my annoyance with all things men, but it did spark a deep-seated hatred. The good for fucking nothing, shit for brains, goddamn assholes have brought me nothing but headaches since I was a teenager.

In a perfect world, they’d disappear from the Earth with a snap of my fingers. But the world is far from perfect, and now, all of my friends have found themselves ones to make me suffer with forever. Anna first, then Poppy. Aurora moved here and fell prey to Johnny within a few weeks. And now, it’s just me.

Well, me and one of the only men I can stand who’s currently driving down the road to pick me up.

Darren Huntsly is a good guy. I’ve known it since Poppy and I were kids and he’d punch any classmates who tried to come near us on the playground. I’ve grown to accept him as both a brother and a best friend, despite every rule I’ve ever made for myself telling me I’m a fool for it.

When Victoria cheated and tried her best at convincing me that we couldn’t be happy together without a man in our relationship, Darren was the first one I called from the police station after I . . . made a mess of things.

He was on the phone with the officer who took me from the scene of my crime within seconds of us hanging up, trying to get me released without having spent even an hour in a cell. Ofcourse, Poppy doesn’t know that detail. As far as she’s concerned, she was my first call from the station.

It was instinct to call him when I found myself parked on this curb, too drunk to risk walking home on my own.

He’s got a sleek black car that costs . . . a lot. If it isn’t raining, I force him to let me put the roof down so I can feel the wind on my skin. Even the seats are expensive, a deep brown leather with cooling and heating and massagers for long drives.

I’d marry this car. Yeah, I would.