Page 99 of Desert Rain
“You do, but you’re scared.”
“I am not scared of a wedding.”
“You’re scared of wanting to belong to people who might actually make room for you.”
I went still.
Lena’s expression softened immediately. “Sorry. Too accurate?”
“Obnoxiously.”
“That’s my brand.”
I looked around my apartment, at the new couch I hadn’t paid for, the coffee table I hadn’t chosen but liked, the cactus on the windowsill, the spare room door behind which Bandit was probably plotting revenge. “They’ve done a lot already. Too much. They got Bandit vet care. They got my truck into town. They replaced half my furniture. They didn’t ask for anything.”
“That’s nice.”
“It’s unsettling.”
“It can be both.”
“I don’t know how to take it.”
“Maybe you don’t have to take it like a debt. Maybe you take it like people being decent.”
I snorted. “That sounds fake.”
“I know. But I’ve heard rumors.”
I looked down into my coffee, stirring the melted ice with the straw. “I kind of did give him something.”
Lena froze.
Then slowly leaned toward the camera.
“I knew it, spill.”
I could feel the heat hit my face before I answered.
“No.”
“Mason?”
“Stop.”
“You gave Mason something?”
“No. Not like—” I stopped, because there was no way to explain without explaining, and explaining would violate the sacred agreement I had made with myself, my dignity, and possibly the state of New Mexico. “We didn’t have sex but we both came.”
Lena’s eyes went wide enough to be seen from space. “I am definitely flying out now.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t. You need me. You need a dress, backup, and someone who will sit beside you at this biker wedding and kick you under the table if you start making lust face at a man in leather.”
“I do not make lust face.”
“You are making it right now remembering whatever you’re refusing to tell me.”
