Page 69 of Sinful Like Us

More quietly, she asks, “Are you still there?”

“Yeah.” My pulse slows. “Thanks, honey.”

I can practically feel her smile. “Talking is my specialty.”

“It’s my weakness,” I say bluntly.

“You’re not so bad,” she whispers. “And we even each other out. It’s why we make a disastrously good team.”

I exhale and release my tight grip. We start saying our goodbyes. “I love you,” I tell Jane.

“I…” She sucks in a sharp breath.

It’s okay.

Still, something stings. Her hang-ups shouldn’t hurt because she warned me that she’d be pushing and pulling, but I feel like I’m fucking up. Unable to be there for my girlfriend the way that she was just here for me.

“You know how I feel.” Her voice is higher-pitched. “What I feel for you is…” Her words carry the swell of emotion that could topple buildings, but she stops herself from adding more.

“I know, and you don’t have to sayI love youback every time,” I remind her.

She’s silent.

My pulse thumps in my throat. “Jane?”

“Je suis désolée.”I’m sorry.

“You don’t need to apologize,” I say strongly. “I love you, that’s it. Nothing else has to happen.” My chest tightens. I’m not sure what she needs from me. She’s someone who rarely looks to be reassured, but I feel like I need to console her.

How?

“I’ll let you go, Thatcher,” she says in a whisper. “Um, I’m…you know…” She sighs in frustration at herself. “À la prochaine.”Until next time.

I stare at my reddened eyes in the mirror. “See you, Jane.” I feel like a jackass.Should’ve stopped her. Should’ve said more.

We hang up.

And I could rattle the sink and scream. Instead, I stay in a lunge, clutching the life out of the porcelain.

I smother the sound of the showerdripby turning on the faucet again, and I rinse out my mouth, blood washing down the drain. As I splash more water at my face, cooling off, the bathroom door swings open. I expect to see my brother.

But it’s someone else.

12

THATCHER MORETTI

The white-haired,tattooed bodyguard saunters inside the bathroom. Shutting the door behind him. Farrow’s barbell piercing rises with his brows. “You look like shit.”

“You must love this.” I wipe water off my face with my bicep.

“Eh, I don’t hate it.” He smiles.

It causes my lip to twitch in 1/1000thof a smile, which is more than usual. Especially around him.

Farrow leans on a stall door. “See, I know what it’s like to be decked in the face for sleeping with a client.”

I almost laugh. Yeah, I’m the one who punched him.I can’t find any words, and we end up just staring awkwardly at each other.