So. Long(241)

“Yes. She said you two were…” He leans down, stage-whispering as though he thinks he’s quiet enough that Nan won’t hear. “…showering together.”

“Aw, hell. That’s right.” What the fuck is wrong with that woman?

A growl sounds from behind Pops. He turns as Lou yanks aside the curtain that surrounds the treatment space.

“Christ! Does she know what happened?” I ask.

Pops turns back to me. “Now she does.”

“Shit. Damn. Fucking hell.”

Voices rise and monitors scream somewhere close by as I sit up, yanking the little monitor off the end of my finger. I rattle the side rail, but it won’t budge.

Nan smacks Pops’ arm. “You moron, now look what you’ve done. You never could whisper worth a damn.”

“Calm down, Son. You took quite a bash to the head.” He puts a hand on my chest, trying to push me back.

“Thanks, but I’m fine.” I pull myself to the end of the bed and stand, untangling my legs from the sheet as I go.

The room sways a bit, but I wait it out. When it steadies, I go after Lou.

I stride past the abandoned nurses’ station. Everyone seems to be attending someone in distress on the other side of the emergency room. I leave them to their business and continue into the waiting area.

Three people in the emergency room, all of them armed with cameras. Fuck. They’ve found me. Paparazzi waste no time snapping pictures for whatever magazine they’ll sell them to.

Fuck them. I have more important things to take care of.

I scan the room for Lou. Maybe she’s sitting behind a ficus tree.

The sliding doors swish open to my left. The cold air from the vent just over the door kicks on to combat the heat from outside. It rushes over me—not just my arms.

Ah, hell’s bells.

This fucking day just keeps getting better.

I prop my hands on my hips. Naked hips. Naked hips that live just above my bared cock and ass.

I smile for the cameras. At this point, that’s about all I can do.

I yank open the door leading into triage. Nan and Pops stand by the counter. Nan, looking a bit frazzled, holds out a pair of my shorts.

I jerk my shoulders back just a notch as I take them from her. “Might’ve been good to put these on first, huh?”

Pops lets out a guffaw, slapping his thigh.

I pull the shorts on and take off again in search of Lou.

Where the hell did she go?


* * *

Lou is nowhere to be found. She’s not answering her fucking phone and she won’t return my texts. I swear, I could throttle Arianne.

Fucking stalker. Sneaking into people’s houses. Showing up in their showers.

And my god damned head is pounding like a mother fucker. This is almost as bad as some of the concussions I got back in my stuntman days.

I pop another pain pill the ER doc prescribed and knock on Delores’s door. It takes a minute, but Delores opens it.

She scowls. “You can just carry your ass home. You made my girl cry. Again.”

“Again?”

“Well, it’s been a while. I haven’t seen her this upset since you left the first time.”

My ribs clamp down on my lungs. “This was a misunderstanding, Delores. Is she home?”

“She went for a walk. And she left her phone here. So, please, for the love of sweet Jesus, stop calling and texting or whatever you’re doing that keeps making it go off. If I have to hear that thing announce asshole calling one more time, I’m going to have to flush it.”

Asshole? Really?

“If she comes home, please tell her she has to call me.”

Delores narrows her eyes. “I don’t know. I’m not sure that super dick you have is worth all this heartache you’re putting her through.”

“I promise I’m going to fix this.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see about that.” She slams the door.

Fuck. I have to find Lou.





TWENTY





How the hell did I make it through boot camp and Marine Combat Training without crying, but Buck shows up and I’m a whimpering idiot?

I wipe my nose and dab my eyes. I sit under the old trailer—the end that hasn’t collapsed. It probably isn’t the safest place, but it’s where I used to hide when Mom went ballistic. And it was the only place I could think of after I went into the house and Aunt Delores started asking twenty questions.

I love her, but I needed a minute to myself. I have to end this thing with Buck, repairs to do, or not. I can’t go on like this. It’s unhealthy. And I haven’t spent the last few years rooting out the drama from my life, focusing on bigger things than my pitiful childhood, to just sink back into that pit.

If he’s still fucking around with Arianne, I don’t need that shit. He says she’s not important to him, but you don’t shower with someone you aren’t at least attracted to. Hollywood has gone to his fucking head if he thinks that’s all right.