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Loving War(82)

By:C.M. Owens


I see her studying me out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t acknowledge it.

“Don’t let the same thing tear you apart, Tria. Hollywood doesn’t control your happily-ever-after. You do.”

I wish it was that easy. I really do.

“Care to tell me what helped you get over everything so fast?”

Her smile forms instantly, and her eyes water as she pulls a picture out of her purse and hands it to me.

“This did.”



***

KODE



“Holy hell,” Maverick drawls as he uses the damn emergency key for the wrong reason, just like all my cousins have done this week—my brother, too.

He walks around, looking at the messy house I’ve let go, as he makes his way toward me. My couch and I have gotten overly friendly this past week. Whiskey has also become a close companion. I haven’t started drinking today… yet.

“I leave you alone for a few days, and you go from looking like Pretty Boy to looking like Mountain Man. When’s the last time you shaved?” he asks.

I rub the longer hairs on my face and shrug while turning my attention back to the TV.

“Dude, you look about as good as your house right now. You should come out with us tonight or something. This shit isn’t healthy.”

Well, fucking up the best thing that ever happened to me is unhealthier. I should have come clean from the beginning. I should have made sure she never had a reason to doubt me when I told her the truth. And I should have changed Rain’s motherfucking name in my phone. Why did I leave it that way?

Because I’m a procrastinating stupid jackass, that’s why.

“Mav, any good reason you’re here?” I ask, annoyed and on the verge of punching him just to shut him up.

“Yeah. I just told you. I want you going out with us tonight. We’ve given you a week.”

Rolling my eyes, I shift on the couch, turning over and away from him.

“Not long enough.”

He huffs, and I hear a chair shift, clueing me in that he just sat down.

“Have you talked to her at all?” he asks.

I fucking wish. “I’ve called. And texted. And called. I’ve sent her flowers. And called. I’ve emailed her. And called. I’ve tweeted her. I’ve even hit her up on Facebook. Nothing. She won’t speak to me.”

“Well, there’s an obvious way to see her. You know where she lives. Just show up.”

That fucking crazy dick ruined that option for me.

I turn back over to face him, barely able to hold myself together at this point.

“After everything Pete put her through, I can’t do that. I don’t want her ever putting me in the same category as that psycho.”

Maverick shakes his head, glancing through the sliding glass doors that lead out to my deck.

“Man, you and Pete are not in the same category.” His eyes come back to mine. “Tria loves you. She doesn’t want to give you up. It’s killing Rain, you know. She’s blaming herself for this.”

“She shouldn’t,” I grumble. “I fucked this all up on my own.”

“Actually,” a feminine voice says, causing us both to jump, “there’s a lot of people in on this fuck-up.”

Rain is moving toward us, her eyes as sad as her slow walk of defeat. I never even heard her come in. Maverick must have left the door unlocked.

Maverick tightens his lips while standing, and he goes to press a kiss to her forehead before waving to me.

“I’ll leave you two to talk.”

Rain walks closer as Maverick heads out, and she comes to sit down across from me, looking as crestfallen as me.

“Rain,” I say hoarsely, instantly choking on all the guilt I didn’t feel before Tria.

Sitting up, I meet her sad gaze, and shift uncomfortably.

“Sorry to just show up, but you wouldn’t take my calls. Tria and I talked. She wanted me to come.”

Hope fills me, and I sit up straighter, leaning forward with eager attention.

“She wanted you to come see me? Can I go to her?”

A tear falls from her eye, and she stands to come sit by me, her breath leaving in a sigh.

“I think you should go. She loves you, but she thinks you’re in love with me. She’s been overlooked for so long, that she refuses to believe someone finally wants her over me.”

I swallow the knot in my throat. She knew I saw her before I fucked up.

“That’s my fault. I handled everything wrong. Is she okay?”

Rain’s eyes drop to the unruly facial hair I’ve unintentionally grown over the past several days.

“She looks about as great as you—minus the bad beard.”

I try to smile, but it doesn’t work.

“Do you hate me?” I ask softly.