Page 135 of Dirty Like Me
Hell, maybe especially that.
“Come inside,” I said.
She followed me into the house, which was a rental. Just a place I slept when I wasn’t on tour or wherever. I wouldn’t exactly call it a home.
A home had people in it.
Though it smelled pretty homey at the moment, thanks to the giant tray of cookies on the kitchen counter.
I raised an eyebrow at Katie.
“Did some baking with my mom,” she said, a little pink in her cheeks. “Helps me chill out.”
I led her to the living room at the back of the house, which overlooked False Creek. Katie drifted around the room, taking in the floor-to-ceiling windows and the epic view.
“You want a drink?”
“No, thanks.” My heart dropped, because I knew what was coming. “I don’t think I’ll stay long.”
“Katie—”
“I think I just need some time to process things. In my own bed.”
Wasn’t that what she’d just had?
“I mean, I’ve barely even gotten to see my dog, and my place is kind of a mess...”
“Katie, I’m so fucking sorry for what happened in L.A.. Those pictures of you with your niece and nephew. I know that freaked you the fuck out. And I’m sorry it happened.”
“It’s okay,” she said, stepping a little closer. I wanted to reach out and grab her, pull her to me and never let her go. But she was hovering there in the middle of the room like some frightened doe. I was scared she’d run away if I moved too fast.
“It’s not okay.”
“No,” she agreed. “But it’s not your fault, either.”
“It sure as fuck isn’t your fault.”
“Well, if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s the paparazzi guy who stalked me, took the photos and sold them, and the media agency that put them out there. But that’s life, right?”
But it wasn’therlife. Not until she met me.
“Katie. I know it upset you. I know that. And I understand why—”
“It wasn’t just what happened with my niece and nephew,” she said, coming closer. “You were right. I used that as an excuse. I used them, and I feel like the worst coward in the world.”
“Katie, you don’t have to—”
“Please. I need to say this. It wasn’t the thing about me being paid to come on tour with you. It wasn’t even the thing about our relationship not being real. It wasn’t all the pictures of me with your friends either, and being called a ’party girl’ like they were slut-shaming me.”
“You’re not a slut,” I said. “I’ve known sluts. Zane is a slut.” It was my attempt to lighten the mood.
No dice.
She looked at me and tears gleamed in her eyes. She looked so small, just kind of floating there in the middle of the room, and fragile in a way I’d never seen her look, and I really didn’t fucking like it. I took a step closer, meaning to take her in my arms.
“It was the photo of me and Josh.”
I stopped just short of touching her.
