JADA
An acacia tree was beating against my bedroom window furiously, the monsoon in full force. The sky was a nasty shade of brown as wet, sandy rain dumped from the thick clouds above. I felt much like that inside—turbulent, frustrated, and a little heavy-hearted.
Cane was right. There was something unnamed that pulled us together. We definitely had a chemistry, like he said, and it was going to be a pity not to explore it. Because things weren’t going to go any further.
The look on his face a few days before when I explained that to him made it clear that he understood my reasoning. And he agreed. Which was exactly what I wanted … so why wasn’t I more relieved?
My emotions were a battleground and my heart was the target.
I remembered my mother saying that the best way to predict the future was to look at past behavior. I was adamant that my future be brighter than my past, so I had to change my habits. Unfortunately for me, the one habit I had to break was the one that had taken over my subconscious with his bright blue eyes.
I have Muffin and Twilight on my Kindle. I don’t need a real man.
Dejectedly, I swiped open the book when I heard a knock on my door.
“Come in.”
“Hey,” Max’s voice rumbled as the door swung open. “Kari picked me up after her shift at the hospital this morning for breakfast and we ended up over here. She’s now passed out and I don’t want to wake her.”
“I can take you home, if that’s what you need. Or I’m sure you can take Kari’s car.”
“She has to be at work again tonight, so I don’t want to put her in a bind. And it’s a mess out there right now,” he said, looking out my bedroom window.
He shoved his hands in his pockets as he looked cautiously at me. “Look, Cane called me a few minutes ago and he’s in the area. He said he could swing by and pick me up …” His voice trailed off as he watched my reaction. “Would it bother you if he came to get me?”
I swallowed. “Why would I mind?”
“I don’t know what’s going on with the two of you, so I thought I should ask.”
“There is nothing going on with us.” I blew out a breath in exasperation. “I promise you that.”
“I don’t care one way or the other. It’s none of my business.”
“It’s fine, Max.”
He held his hands out. “Just tryin’ to be respectful.”
“I know and I appreciate that. But it really is fine. If you are going to be hanging around my sister and plan on continuing to be Cane’s friend, I’m going to assume our paths will cross sometimes.” I shrugged with a fake nonchalance. “I’ll just stay up here and read, so it won’t matter anyway.”
“Jada,” Max said, leaning against the doorway, “you’re mowing the sidewalk here.”
I laughed hard. “I have absolutely no idea what that means!”
“What I’m saying is that you are doing something that isn’t necessary. You are sitting up here avoiding Cane—hell, you’re avoiding life because your ex-husband was a dick.”
I began to respond, but Max waved me off.
“Look, I haven’t known you all that long and I sure as hell am not a psychiatrist. But not all guys are like the one you married. Take Cane, for example. My man is clearly not a saint. Hell, he could start an argument in an empty house, for cryin’ out loud. But you know what—he isn’t a complete asshole either. If nothing else, he’s a good guy to have in your corner.” He turned on his heel and shut the door behind him.
I considered his words until I remembered the part about Cane dropping by. I darted into the bathroom, a burst of excitement coursing through me.
He’s coming here! I look like a mess!
I brushed my teeth, pulled a brush through my hair, and changed into a pair of yoga pants and a soft pink long-sleeved shirt.
He’s going to pull to the curb and leave. He won’t come in here. Why would he?
I coated my lips with a thin pink gloss and swiped on some mascara.
It never hurts to look cute. Just in case.
I headed back into the bedroom just as my phone rang on my bedside table.
Maybe it’s Cane, calling to see if he can come in.
I rolled my eyes at myself as I looked at the number. BLOCKED was flashing on the phone, so I clicked it to voicemail. I picked up the phone and held it, waiting for a voicemail notification. After a few minutes, it was obvious that there would be no message.
My attention was drawn back to the situation at hand as the doorbell chimed. My chest constricted.
I’m like a damn junkie. I rolled my eyes at myself, sitting on the bed. He got the memo. This can’t happen and he knows it now, too. Obviously.