place where I’d been before. The place where I’d been dying to write again.
Hell, I knew exactly what it was. It was Brad.
There was no doubt about it.
Being around him always reminded me of exactly who I really was. He’d always had that effect on me.
So, even if our relationship was about to go down the frigging toilet, at least I’d managed to get something out of it. As pissed as I was at him, I really hoped he’d managed to get something out of it too. He’d been through a lot and he deserved some happiness.
Enough of that. Focus.
I crossed to one of the many benches in the town square and hauled my bag onto the table top. I pulled out my notebook and pen and then reached inside for my phone and earphones so I could drown out everything around me with my music. I liked to be outside when I wrote, for inspiration, but I didn’t like the noise that went along with it.
I’d just placed one of my earbuds into my ear, when a conversation caught my attention.
“Marsh, yeah.”
“That’s why he’s been MIA for the last few days then? That boy is usually everywhere. Poor kid.”
“Well, what do you expect after he messed around with another man’s wife? Even if it was Crazy Claire—snooty woman. I heard she’s been stalking Brad for months now.”
“Hmm, so he ignored her and then she told her husband about them? Vindictive.”
“I’m surprised Eric didn’t have a scratch on him. After that thing with his dad a way’s back, we all know what a fighter Brad is.”
“Who knows? But I bet you that this whole situation is exactly why Brad has been off the market for a good long while.”
“It must be. That boy had a healthy appetite; that’s for damn sure.”
“Gloria! Healthy appetite?”
“I was trying not to be so blunt.”
Oh my God! I turned my head towards the voices and saw two of the town gossips, old biddies, Doris and Gloria, chatting away. They were caught up in a fit of laughter at the healthy appetite comment.
That was it for me.
I scrolled to Brad’s number and texted: Where are you, asshole?
He responded quickly: Asshole?
I wasn’t going to get into it via text so I just returned: Where?
My phone pinged again with: Just pulled up outside my place. Why?
I couldn’t even dignify that one with a response, so I just stowed my phone back inside my bag, along with everything else, and hightailed it out of the town square.
***
I pounded on his door like a crazed maniac as I shouted his name. I was in a haze of anger and I was only vaguely aware that my little freak out could be alerting the neighbors and possibly firing up some rumors. But I was too engrossed in the immediate situation to lend it much thought.
Brad came to the door. His eyes were wide with disbelief when he saw how worked up I was. He glanced down the street briefly, before grabbing my arm and quickly pulling me inside.
He kicked the door shut behind him and then yelled, “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. You just made one hell of a scene out there. People are gonna know, Soph. Fuck!”
“This is your fault.”
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. I could see the tick of his jaw. The heated look in his narrowed eyes. He was pissed, but trying his hardest to hold it in. “Go ahead,” he gritted out with noticeable effort.
“You disappeared on me!”
“Disappeared? We’ve been communicating.”
“Via text. That’s all. I might as well be having a relationship with your phone, instead of you!”
“I told you I was sick.”
I shrugged my bag off my shoulder and took an angry step towards him. “You weren’t sick! You cut me out! Pushed me away!”
He tried to hide it, but I saw it; the guilt there. He’d just unwittingly confirmed that he’d been lying. “How do you—?”
“How do I know? It’s all over town. You slept with Crazy Claire and her husband kicked your ass. I know , you idiot!”
He pushed off the wall
Hell, I knew exactly what it was. It was Brad.
There was no doubt about it.
Being around him always reminded me of exactly who I really was. He’d always had that effect on me.
So, even if our relationship was about to go down the frigging toilet, at least I’d managed to get something out of it. As pissed as I was at him, I really hoped he’d managed to get something out of it too. He’d been through a lot and he deserved some happiness.
Enough of that. Focus.
I crossed to one of the many benches in the town square and hauled my bag onto the table top. I pulled out my notebook and pen and then reached inside for my phone and earphones so I could drown out everything around me with my music. I liked to be outside when I wrote, for inspiration, but I didn’t like the noise that went along with it.
I’d just placed one of my earbuds into my ear, when a conversation caught my attention.
“Marsh, yeah.”
“That’s why he’s been MIA for the last few days then? That boy is usually everywhere. Poor kid.”
“Well, what do you expect after he messed around with another man’s wife? Even if it was Crazy Claire—snooty woman. I heard she’s been stalking Brad for months now.”
“Hmm, so he ignored her and then she told her husband about them? Vindictive.”
“I’m surprised Eric didn’t have a scratch on him. After that thing with his dad a way’s back, we all know what a fighter Brad is.”
“Who knows? But I bet you that this whole situation is exactly why Brad has been off the market for a good long while.”
“It must be. That boy had a healthy appetite; that’s for damn sure.”
“Gloria! Healthy appetite?”
“I was trying not to be so blunt.”
Oh my God! I turned my head towards the voices and saw two of the town gossips, old biddies, Doris and Gloria, chatting away. They were caught up in a fit of laughter at the healthy appetite comment.
That was it for me.
I scrolled to Brad’s number and texted: Where are you, asshole?
He responded quickly: Asshole?
I wasn’t going to get into it via text so I just returned: Where?
My phone pinged again with: Just pulled up outside my place. Why?
I couldn’t even dignify that one with a response, so I just stowed my phone back inside my bag, along with everything else, and hightailed it out of the town square.
***
I pounded on his door like a crazed maniac as I shouted his name. I was in a haze of anger and I was only vaguely aware that my little freak out could be alerting the neighbors and possibly firing up some rumors. But I was too engrossed in the immediate situation to lend it much thought.
Brad came to the door. His eyes were wide with disbelief when he saw how worked up I was. He glanced down the street briefly, before grabbing my arm and quickly pulling me inside.
He kicked the door shut behind him and then yelled, “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. You just made one hell of a scene out there. People are gonna know, Soph. Fuck!”
“This is your fault.”
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. I could see the tick of his jaw. The heated look in his narrowed eyes. He was pissed, but trying his hardest to hold it in. “Go ahead,” he gritted out with noticeable effort.
“You disappeared on me!”
“Disappeared? We’ve been communicating.”
“Via text. That’s all. I might as well be having a relationship with your phone, instead of you!”
“I told you I was sick.”
I shrugged my bag off my shoulder and took an angry step towards him. “You weren’t sick! You cut me out! Pushed me away!”
He tried to hide it, but I saw it; the guilt there. He’d just unwittingly confirmed that he’d been lying. “How do you—?”
“How do I know? It’s all over town. You slept with Crazy Claire and her husband kicked your ass. I know , you idiot!”
He pushed off the wall
Similar Books
