Page 36 of Unleashed

But since we’re here…

“Not a word.” Brooke’s expression is surprisingly devoid of emotion. “And that’s probably a good thing, because I would likely have said things I’d regret.”

That’s another way Brooke and I differ. I don’t regret the things I say. Not ever. If it comes out of my mouth, I mean it. I’ve been through too much to cater to anyone else ever again.

“If you want, I can say them.” I move to my desk, perching on one corner as I give my best friend a sly smile. “I have a lot of things I would love to say to your mother.”

Brooke matches my smile. “Same.”

“Well, I think we’re probably both screwed then. I doubt your parents are going to come around if there’s nothing in it for them. And my mom is way too old to shit out another baby for me to take care of, so I can’t imagine I’ll ever hear from her again.” And that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s been five years, but my anger at her for all the shitty choices she’s made—and continues making—is still just as raw. Still just as sharp.

Brooke purses her lips before flattening them out. After a second, she takes a deep breath and asks, “Do you ever wonder if she’s still alive?”

“No.” Not because I don’t think there’s a good chance she’s overdosed at this point or ended up on the wrong side of a violent man. The odds are actually pretty high either of those things could have happened. “Because it doesn’t really matter.”

It might make me a bad person for not caring whether my mother’s alive or dead, but I got comfortable with being considered a bad person a long time ago. No one likes a woman who isn’t afraid to say what needs to be said. They don’t appreciate how much work it takes not to cave to the societal pressures to be sweeter. Softer. Gentler.

And honestly, they don’t care.

Brooke solemnly nods. “Sometimes I wonder how I’ll feel when my parents die, but I don’t know that I’ll be sad.” Her eyes meet mine. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“It depends on who you ask.” I lean forward, taking her hand in mine and giving it a squeeze. “So make sure you only ask me, because I will tell you you’re fucking awesome and fuck those two for what they did to you. I hope they have bleeding hemorrhoids and get shingles every single year.”

“Aren’t you feeling vicious today?”

The sound of Trevor’s voice has my spine snapping straight.

Why is he here? We were just together. Not together, together. But as together as two people can be without being together.

The flush that had finally started to dissipate creeps across my skin again just thinking about… Togetherness.

I’m stuck in place, unable to do anything but watch as Trevor casually saunters to my desk, perching one ass cheek on the edge next to me.

“What are you doing here?” I manage to get my mouth to move, but the rest of me is still locked in some sort of weird fight or flight scenario. And shockingly, I’m not fighting.

Or flighting. So I guess I’m just a deer in the headlights.

“I came to find out where you get those pens you love so much.” Trevor scans my desk before picking up one of the items in question, holding it up like I don’t already know what he’s fucking talking about. “I think I’d like to order some for myself since you threatened my life when I attempted to borrow one of yours.”

“You weren’t going to borrow it. You were going to steal it.” I finally manage to get my limbs working again and quickly snag my pen from his hand. “I’ll email you the link.” I make an awkward shooing motion. “You can go now.”

Surprisingly, Trevor stands, like he’s actually going to heed my request. But he doesn’t leave like I’m hoping. Instead he leans closer, eyes darkening in a way that makes me think maybe he’s also contemplating our… Togetherness.

His voice is low and filled with suggestion as he says. “Perfect. Feel free to email me anytime.”

I fucking gulp like a cartoon character as his eyes drop to my lips, lingering there a second before he finally turns and walks away, leaving me gasping for air.

Air I immediately choke on when I see how my best friend is now staring at me.

“What the fuck was that about?” Brooke looks in the direction Trevor just left before bringing her eyes back to me. “Did something happen between you two?”

“Of course not. Why would you ask that?” I sound defensive. I am. Guilt will do that to you.

“Because he’s an asshole and he picks fights with everyone. So it’s not a big stretch to assume he picked a fight with you.” Brooke scowls.

“Oh. A fight. Yes.” I decide to run with this new trajectory. “He picked a fight with me. About…” Oh God. Trevor has actually picked countless fights with me, but for the life of me, I can’t remember what a single one of them was about. “It was over one of the people we interviewed yesterday.” Yeah. That’s what it was over.

Actually, we did have words about one of the people we interviewed yesterday.