The Line Between(89)

I cleared my throat, and they both looked at me in surprise.

“I didn’t meant to interrupt,” I said carefully. “I can leave… ”

“Don’t bother,” snapped Jade. “Reid was just on his way out.”

Reid exhaled, and hung his head. “So that’s it, then? We’re throwing away twenty years of friendship because of one night?”

“NO!” Screamed Jade, causing both me and Reid to flinch. “YOU threw it away when you had sex with me, and then decided to screw someone else as soon as we landed. This is all on you. Now get the fuck out!” Reid stared at Jade as if he didn’t know her.

“NOW!”

Jade’s shriek sent him into motion, and he stormed past me, shutting the door with a slam!

Jade collapsed onto the floor, and I rushed to her side.

“Ssshhh….” I rubbed her hair, and felt her body shaking. “It’s going to be okay.”

Ashley chose that exact moment to come in. She was beaming, and seemed completely oblivious to Jade’s emotional state.

“You’re never going to believe who just asked me out on a date,” she crooned, twirling around us. Seriously? Could she not see we were in the middle of an emotional crisis here? How had I not realized she was so self-absorbed?

She answered her own statement, and the single word that came out of her mouth shattered me. Completely annihilated me.

“Dane.”

I sat frozen, unblinking, and Jade’s head shot up.

“What?” She snapped.

Ashley rolled her eyes. “Weren’t you listening? I just said Dane asked me out on a date.”

“When?” Asked Jade. My mouth was too dry; otherwise I would have asked the question myself.

“Like, five minutes ago.”

Jade looked at me, and I had nothing to say.

Maybe he’d moved on, or maybe he’d seen me with Beau and jumped to conclusions.

Either way I didn’t want to care anymore.

I couldn’t.

Because caring only got me hurt, and I was done with that.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Dane

REID HAD FOUND me in the gym earlier pounding away at bag full of sand as if I was fighting for my life. For the last week it felt like I had been.

“You’re going to pull a muscle if you keep punching that thing so hard,” he’d grumbled. I’d politely told him to fuck off, and leave me alone.

Now it was Reid who looked like he needed to punch something. He stormed into our apartment, a mask of fury on his face, and slammed the front door hard enough to shake the walls. I had no idea what his problem was, and I wasn’t about to ask. He’d been testy ever since he’d come back from his trip with Jade. But then again, so had I.

I sipped my beer, and watched him walk around like a caged tiger. I would have told him to chill the fuck out and have a beer if I wasn’t worried he’d have my balls, for opening my mouth.

My phone rang, and when I saw my mother’s name flashing on the screen I decided not to answer it. I wasn’t in the mood for conversation. My phone stopped ringing, and when it started up again less than a second later, I frowned. My mother never called incessantly unless there was a problem.

I slid my finger across the screen, and held my phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hi, sweetheart. Is this a bad time?” My mother sounded nervous, and I detected an undertone of anxiety in her voice. That was never good.

“No mom, it’s fine. Is everything okay?”

Reid grabbed a beer from the fridge, and joined me on the sofa, staring daggers at the wall. What was his deal?

“Everything’s fine,” my mother replied. “I just…there’s just something…” she stuttered. My mother never stuttered. I sat forward, and my mind started racing with everything that could be wrong.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

I heard her exhale on the other end of the line, and waited for her to speak.

“I needed to warn you,” she started. “Your father’s court case with Anthony Monroe regarding the land dispute and oil drilling has turned quite nasty. Your father is making it personal, and the media are out for blood. I wanted you to know in case they decide to start bothering you for information.”

I screwed my eyes shut, and groaned. “You’re not serious, mom? Has dad lost his fucking mind?”

“Language,” my mother berated. “And I don’t know what your father is thinking. It can go either way, like most things like this tend to do when the media get involved. I wanted you to be aware of what was going on, before you saw it splashed on the news.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised at this turn of events. Not really. My father had a habit of twisting things to his advantage, and he relished any opportunity to drag Anthony Monroe’s name through the mud.