Birds chirp and cabs blare. And Scottie and Jax sit there with their mouths agape. Then Jax closes his. “Shit. It’s like that, huh?”

Understatement of the year.

“Yeah. It’s like that.”

Chapter Thirteen

Rye

 

TrueAceOfBass: So. I had this idea. I’d drop by your house, armed w/ Pringles & Diet Cherry Coke (even though it’s a disgusting drink) and offer you a foot rub. But, apparently, you’re in Atlanta.

Berrylicious: Diet Cherry Coke is delicious. Anyone with true taste knows it.

TrueAceOfBass: It’s the devil’s juice, Bren. Accept that your tastes have been compromised and let the healing begin.

Berrylicious: Never. In fact, I’m going on a tour of the Coke factory tomorrow. Will demand a crate of DCC.

TrueAceOfBass: You’re staying in Atlanta? Scottie is coming home tonight. And how is it that Scottie tells me these things and you don’t?

Berrylicious: You’re sounding suspiciously parental right now, Peterson.

TrueAceOfBass: If you want to call me Daddy, I’m surprisingly okay with that.

Berrylicious: It’s like you never want to have sex with me again.

TrueAceOfBass: Oh, I’m getting some. As soon as you return from Atlanta. Exactly when is that, btw?

Berrylicious: You’re pretty sure of yourself, buttercup.

TrueAceOfBass: I was there. You were two moans away from, “Oh, Daddy, please give me more.”

Berrylicious: Ugh. That’s it. I’m turning off my phone. I have to go take a hot shower and scrub my skin to rid myself of the ick.

TrueAceOfBass: You mean a cold shower because you’re hot for me. They don’t work, you know. I’ve tried. Several times since I left you. I’m still dying over here.

TrueAceOfBass: Bren?

TrueAceOfBass: You seriously turned off your phone?

TrueAceOfBass: Bren?

TrueAceOfBass: Damn, it’s like that, huh?

When Brenna doesn’t answer, I tuck away my phone and bite back a grin. Despite the fact she’s tuned me out, the small exchange gave me far too much enjoyment. Still, she did turn off her phone. That can’t be good.

“Question.” I turn to Jax who’s thumbing through my LP collection. “Do women truly frown upon the whole ‘call me Daddy’ thing?”

Jax pauses, his mouth falling open. “Please, for the love of vinyl, tell me you didn’t go there.”

“What? I was joking.” Mostly. I mean, I’m up for anything Brenna wants to throw my way. I aim to please. But it’s not my personal kink.

Jax shakes his head. “I thought you had better game than this.”

“I never needed game before now.”

“Sadly, I believe that.” He should; he’s had as many women throw themselves on him over the years. Shit, even more. Our fame was our game.

Jax’s expression becomes empathetic. “Engaging with Brenna is master-level tactics, and you’re over there in primary school.”

A sound of frustration escapes me, and I rub my fingers along my tight scalp. “You know what? We shouldn’t be talking about this. Forget I said anything.”

“Then you shouldn’t have mentioned the daddy thing. Not likely to forget that.”

With a groan, I flop back onto my couch. “That was stupid of me to text, wasn’t it?”

Jax snickers. “You texted that? Now she has a visible record of that horror for the rest of your lives and will pull it up to torture you with in times of strife.” He glances at me with unrepentant glee. “Of which I predict there will be many.”

I’d flip him the finger, but I’m too busy pressing my fingers to the hollows of my aching eyes. “Fuck. We really shouldn’t be talking about this.”

“But you want to talk about it, don’t you?” Jax’s tone is serious now, and for once he doesn’t seem to be on the verge of cracking a joke. It must be killing him to hold back.

My hands fall to my thighs, and I instantly start thrumming a beat. But it doesn’t stop the twitchy feeling inside me. “I just…I don’t know. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“You will, though.”

“Thanks, man. Truly.” I’d be more upset if I didn’t think Jax was sort of right.

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing personal. We’re guys. We’ll fuck things up because we haven’t got a clue what to do with our feelings once we start having them for someone.” His snort is self-deprecating. “Do you know the amount of asinine word spew that came out of my mouth when I met Stella?”

“I can imagine,” I mutter.

But he doesn’t hear me. He’s on a tear now. “Instead of pulling little dudes aside in health class to tell them it’s okay to rub one off—which, no shit, man, we all know that—they should be teaching them how to handle relationships. I swear that advice is worth more than gold.”

He pins me with serious eyes. “Let me save you some more future grief. If your woman comes to you to complain about some shit going down in her life, she doesn’t want you to fix it.”

“What’s the point of telling me if I can’t help find a solution?”

“So you can nod and say, ‘Fuck that noise, you’re completely in the right, sweetness.’ Or, ‘I’m sorry, honey, that truly sucks. Would you like a foot rub?’”

“I offered a foot rub.” I scratch at my growing beard. I need to shave it. “She ignored that part.”

Jax snorts. “Doesn’t count if you weird her out with a side of bad flirting.”

“She’s intrigued. I know it.”

“You know dick.” He seems pleased by this.

“Maybe you should teach a class now that you’re so enlightened.”

“Maybe I should. Gather ’round, little dudes, and let Unkie John explain this wonderful concept called ‘think before you speak.’”

“Probably best if you don’t call yourself ‘Unkie John.’ That’s creepy.”

“Whatever you say, Daddy.”

“God,” I groan, pained. “I shouldn’t have gone there.”

“Live and learn, my friend.” He shrugs. “Nothing is easy when you’re falling in love.”

Alarm has me sitting up. “Hey now, no one said anything about love. I like Brenna. A lot. I want to try and see where this goes without totally messing it up before it even begins. But love? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed to love as a concept. But love is…” Flaying yourself wide open and handing over salt to dump in the wound.

Jax stares at me with a placid expression that says I’m talking too much. I stare back, determined not to squirm or pull at my collar because it is damn hot in this room, and I need to get better window treatments.

The silence grows taut, and I clench my fists.

She bolted. Because I know damn well that’s what she did. It’s a kick in the teeth, a punch in my needy nuts. I’m not going to think about the region of my heart. That organ is off-limits.

Yes, she bolted. But I can’t sweat it. We only promised each other three days out of the week. Asking for more already would be pushing it. So, I won’t text her again. I won’t think about her or count the minutes that she’s gone.