Page 44 of Damaged Desires

“Promise.”

“Everything is going to be fine. I love you, Squirter,” I said, and if he hadn’t had to run, I knew he would’ve kept going until the assurance came out of my mouth. I was thankful I didn’t have to lie to him.

“Love you, too, Gooberpants.”

I went back inside, determined to finish the press schedule we’d been working on before Nash had disrupted our world, determined to put him out of my mind completely and just focus on my job. But it was pretty much impossible. After I completed my meeting with Brady and Lee, I returned to my room and dialed Tristan’s number.

“Hi,” she said after one ring. I looked at the clock, realizing Hannah was probably napping. It was the only time she got in the studio, and I felt bad for interrupting her.

“Hey to you, too. Are you okay?” I asked her.

“Okay is a wide range. I’m here. I’m surviving. Will that do?” she asked.

“What happened with Nash?” I asked before I could stop myself.

She sighed. “Let me guess, he went from my couch to Mac’s?”

I laughed. “Well, technically, I’m sure he was in the loft, but now he’s here in Jacksonville.”

Silence for a moment. “He is?”

“My brother sent him here like some overprotective mama bear after the incident last night.”

“What incident?” Tristan asked.

I rubbed my finger along the wood of the desk. “Brady’s stalker threw a bunch of firecrackers at him as we were leaving the venue. It was on the news, so I thought maybe you’d seen it.”

“Oh my God. Is he okay?” she breathed out.

“He is.” I didn’t feel like getting into the whole part about me being hit and pressed her instead. “Do you need to talk about what happened?”

“Nothing really happened. I just feel like…we both need some space,” she said, but it was elusive, as if she didn’t want to come out and tell me about it. “Honestly, I’m glad he’s there with you.”

“You’re glad he’s with me?” This surprised me because I’d expected her to be…not jealous…but proprietary over him. She relied on him for a lot more than just helping with Hannah and the dog. Their relationship was convoluted. I couldn’t decide if they were friends, family, or much more.

“He needs someone to smack him around a bit, and I think you’re just the person for the job.”

I laughed. “Well, I don’t know about hitting him, but I don’t intend to take any of his shit.”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

I was glad I’d called her—for me as well as her. I told her to reach out whenever she needed it, reminding her I was up at all kinds of hours these days, but I knew she wouldn’t. Tristan was as much of an enigma as Nash on most days.

My feelings for Nash being in Florida were almost too mixed up to peel apart.

A sharp knock on my hotel door brought me to the peephole and a blurry vision of the man himself on the other side.

I swung it open enough to stare at him without inviting him in.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Did you even check who it was?”

“I’m not seven, Otter. I don’t need a lecture on stranger danger.”

He was cataloging me again. Every tell. Every hair. Every breath. It was maddening and stupidly tantalizing at the same time.

“When are you leaving?” I asked in response to his silence.