Page 97 of Rastor

A couple of weeks after Chloe had walked out my front door, I found myself standing in the same doorway, staring at different girl, Brittney.

Damn it.

Chapter 48

I stared down at her, wondering what the hell she wanted, because let's face it, Brittney was the last girl I wanted to see on my doorstep.

Like too many others things, this was probably my own fault. These days, the front gate was always open, because stupid or not, I still had this crazy hope that one day, Chloe might walk back through it.

So far, she hadn't. And the way it looked, she wasn't going to.

Instead, here I was, looking at someone who annoyed the piss out of me. I didn't bother to hide it. "What do you want?"

She frowned. "Aren't you gonna invite me in?"

"Hell no."

She made a sound of frustration. "Well, this is special. Firsther, and now you. I'm starting to think youbothhave issues."

Just a couple of hours earlier, it was Amber on my doorstep, complaining about Brittney. Supposedly, Brittney had been spreading some rumor about Amber getting a boob job. Was it true? I didn't know, and I didn't care. Why they chose to put me in the middle, I had no idea.

From what Amber had told me earlier, she'd retaliated by spreading a rumor of her own – that Brittney couldn't tell the difference between arealdesigner purse and afakedesigner purse. The same with shoes.

Just shoot me now.

I looked to Brittney. "Not my problem. If you're unhappy, take it up with Amber."

"Amber?" She shook her head. "Why her?"

My head was pounding. Last night, I'd had about six beers too many, and I was still feeling it.

Shit, who was I kidding? I felt this lousy every day, whether I'd been drinking or not. I reached up to rub the back of my neck, wondering if I should grab another beer now, just to take the edge off.

"Well?" Brittney was saying.

I was still rubbing my neck. "Well what?"

Did I evenhavebeer? Damn it. That's right. I'd gone through the last of it last night. Maybe I should give my house-keeper a call, have her put it on the list. Wastodaygrocery-shopping day? I had no idea. It's not like I'd been eating a lot lately.

Brittney gave me an annoyed look. "I wasn't talking about Amber. I was talking about your girlfriend."

My girlfriend? Nowthatgot my attention. She must mean Chloe. At the thought of her, I felt that familiar ache in my heart. She wasn't my girlfriend. She was the girl I'd driven away.

But Brittney would know that. Right? After all, she and Chloe worked together. But then again, they weren't exactly best buddies, were they?

For all I knew, they didn't even talk at work. IfIworked with Brittney, I sure as hell wouldn’t be talking to her. Hell, I didn't want to be talking to her, now.

But suddenly, I was curious. "Why are you here?"

"Because I've got a message for Chloe, and I didn't want to give it to her at work."

A nicer guy would've told Brittney that she was in the wrong place. A nicer guy would've confessed that I couldn't give Chloe anything, no matter how much I might want to. A nicer guy would've admitted that Chloe wasn't here, and probably neverwouldbe here.

But Iwasn'tnice. And I was dying for news of the girl I'd lost.

For too many nights, I'd walked along my fence, desperate for the smallest glimpse of her. I never spotted Chloe, but I did see other things – the trashcan by the curb on garbage day, lights glimmering through the bare branches of the trees, Chloe's car in the driveway, sometimes in one spot, sometimes in another.

From what I could tell, she'd been going about her business like nothing had changed. Well, that made one of us. As for me, I was letting everything go to shit.