Page 49 of Bad Attitude
Which is the problem. If he’d been forgettable, I wouldn’t be standing in my mother’s garden in Utah. Instead, I’m here. Seven hundred miles away. Wondering if I’ve gone far enough.
It’s not even what he did, it’s that I let him. Iwantedhim to. I opened myself to him, and he left without a word. The worst part isn’t the hurt, it’s that I’d do it again without hesitation.
The question I’ve been trying to avoid pushes its way into my mind:Was I that bad?
“Yes, there was someone,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them, and I find I don’t want to. Tears prickle my eyes, but those I definitely don’t want. I dash them away. “It was a mistake, and I’m regretting it.”
“Uh-huh,” Caleb replies, mirroring my serious tone. “Yet I think it’s more than that, isn’t it?”
I shake my head. “There’s nothing more to it. I was an idiot, plain and simple. Licking my wounds.” The phrase lands wrong; too close to other things his tongue did. I have to look away from Caleb before he sees my expression.
“That’s not the Gen I know,” hedisagrees. “If that were true, you wouldn’t give it a second thought. I bet you’ve found plenty of fish in the LA sea.”
Not even remotely.But I don’t bother to correct him.
“No,” he continues, psychoanalyzing me. “You fell for him, didn’t you?”
I give a derisive laugh. “It was a fleeting blip, nothing more.”
“Bullshit.” Caleb’s response is instant. “I say again: if that were true, you wouldn’t be here.” His head tilts. “It’s clearly bothering you. Why don’t you just call the guy?”
“I don’t even have his number,” I mutter. All he left me was a warm patch in the sheets where he used to be, and an experience I know I’ll never be able to repeat. I want him back with an intensity that frightens me, but I know it’s not to be. They always leave.
Caleb’s eyebrows rise. “Just fucked him, huh?”
I want to punch him for that too, but for once, I have no defense to my brother’s dirty mind, because it’s true. “Something like that.”
My phone chooses just that moment to vibrate with a text, and for a dissociative moment, I assume it’s Declan, and that he’s somehow got my number.
But when I pull it out, it’s not. It’s Kurt.
Pulling in another favor. Friday night, 7 p.m..
I sigh and put my phone away. “One more day, then I have to leave. Give me a lift to the airport?”
Eleven
Declan
“Fuck, I’m bored!” I flop back against the couch, trying to elicit some sympathy.
It’s Tuesday. Renner’s not back from San Fran, Genesis hasn’t emerged, and I’m struggling to make any headway getting the crew to accept me. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Plus, I’m fucking bored.
Tasha twitches at my outburst, but doesn’t look up from her laptop.
Dario has his phone out, playing some kind of word game that suggests he might be more intelligent than he sometimes comes across.
Cole is doing push-ups on the floor, and chuckles in mid-extension.
“Solutions, not problems,” he says, not losing his rhythm. His clipped British intonation is all military officer.
“Fine, then let’s go for a ride.” I lean forward,resting an elbow on one knee. “Where’s your bike?”
He was wearing leathers when he came in, which means Cole may be someone I can bond with.
“Parked next to yours.” Cole shows no sign of stopping anytime soon; he doesn’t slow.
“What have you got?”
