Page 12 of A Lick and A Promise
“No,” she snapped, leaning toward me, her pretty face twisting, making it not so pretty anymore. “You listen to me, Luna. Stand aside. Back off. Take a hike. All three. Just fuck off.”
I tried again. “Cheyenne?—”
“You hanging around just confuses him, and I know that’s what you mean to do, but it’s a fucked-up play.”
Did I say I didn’t have a lot of patience this morning?
Well, as the seconds ticked by, I had less and less.
“He broke up with you,” I pointed out, my voice tight.
“He didn’t break up with me…we’re on a break,” she stated delusionally. “That’s different.”
“All right, Ross,” I scoffed.
Her face scrunched angrily.
“And he wouldn’t have done that if you weren’t playing your games,” she shot back.
She might be right. I’d been playing a game with Brady.
But no man who was into a woman for the long haul dumped her ass because his semi-kinda-not-quite-but-also-still ex was fake-flirting-with-and-dating his bud.
Further, no woman should continue to pursue a man who would do that to her.
“I don’t have any control over what Knox does or does not do,” I noted.
“You sure try,” she retorted.
That wasn’t true.
As such.
“This isn’t cool,” I returned, and because my patience was spent, perhaps ill-advisedly, I went on, “It’s actually a dozen shades of psycho.”
Her perfectly plucked brows reached her hairline.
“I’m not psycho,” she snapped.
She was totally psycho.
I started to count it down.
“One, your man broke up with you. Take it like a champ and move on. Not doing that and pretending you’re still together and horning in to see him first after he was shot,” I paused for effect, “twice, when his best bud and his concerned boss were right there, is psycho. Two, showing at the home of the friend of your ex who you view as competition in order to confront her is psycho. Three, telling her to back off from a man who dumped you is, again, psycho. Ergo, you are psycho.”
“He loves me,” she spat.
“If he loved you, when he’s in a hospital bed, whacked out on the tail end of anesthesia and intravenous pain meds, why did he ask for me?”
She flinched.
Okay, so that was a low blow.
But the woman was barring me from my home, I’d slept on a couch and needed a serious stretch session (at least), and Knox broke up with her.
She started toward me, and I was thinking I was at one with the idea of a catfight in the parking lot of my apartment complex (though I’d lament the loss of the last half of my dirty chai if I had to chuck it) when the gate opened and Angels started streaming through.
This was excellent, because I knew I could take her, but I got the sense Cheyenne was a hair puller and that never felt good (yeah, you could take from that, when Dream and I were younger, we fought, and she was a hair puller).
