Lost King by Piper Lennox (moboreader txt) 📗

his inner lip. There’s scar tissue there, a white patch that never goes away. I got tired of asking him to see a doctor about it.

It makes my stomach turn, just imagining the carcinogens seeping into his veins through that patch right now.

“I don’t want to move on,” he says. “I want you.”

“Not what you said during the fight,” I point out, because that was a huge turning point for us. It didn’t even hurt my feelings. I was relieved. Finally, his heart was hardening against me. The Band-Aid was loose. “You told me there were lots of girls in this town who wanted you, and you were starting to wonder why you kept yourself on my back burner. Remember?”

“I do wonder that.” Bending down, he picks up an empty Cherry Coke bottle he left here God knows when. I look away when he spits, the grimy glob rolling down the side like syrup. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped wanting you.”

“Well...you should.” I take a breath and straighten my shoulders. “In fact, I give you permission. I give you a heartfelt plea. Go be with someone else.”

Callum shifts his jaw, eyes glistening when he looks away. He dangles the Coke bottle by two fingers and taps it back and forth between his legs.

“Who is he?”

I look up from the black dress I’m pretending I might select. “What?”

“Who. Is. He.” He spits into the bottle again, caps it, and rolls it underneath my bed in one last spiteful gesture. He knows I hate finding those things. “You’re obviously going out somewhere tonight, looking how you do.”

“I’m in a bathrobe.”

“And,” he retorts, “your mom’s earrings.”

I ditch my excuse when I realize this might actually help him: the thought I’m dolling up for a date with someone else.

Which, technically, I guess I am.

“Met a guy at the hardware store today.” I rest my head on the closet door. “We’re going to dinner.”

“And what am I supposed to do?”

I draw a breath that sounds a lot more patient than I feel. “I guess you could start by fucking the candle store girl up her ass.”

Callum stares at me a moment, those golden eyes simmering...then bursts out laughing.

“You’re so stupid.” He hops up and taps his fist under my chin as he passes, a gentle “buck up” motion he needs more than I do. “Have fun, wherever you’re really going. Tell Frankie I said hi.”

I think about ripping the Band-Aid off a little bit more: admitting I’m not joking at all, I really do have a date, and that Francesca is out of town all month.

Wisely, I don’t. Callum has a temper, to put it mildly, and a penchant for pills and bottles. He’s never hit me, but I’ve seen enough close calls to know it’s not impossible.

Enough to know “let’s stay friends” isn’t an option for us, even when I pretend otherwise. Like now.

“Thanks.” I return his wave as he leaves. “And you can take the jerky with you. I don’t even like it.”

He scoops it up on his way out, like he planned to take it all along.

I think about calling for him to leave his key on the kitchen counter, while he’s at it, but decide I don’t feel like exercising cruelty nor tempting fate tonight. One step at a time.

3

“Wow...you look amazing.”

I make my best “aw, you’re so sweet” face at the rose Theo hands me when I meet him outside Braise, a ritzy restaurant near St. James.

“Flowers? You agreed this wouldn’t be a date.”

“One flower.” He motions to my emerald green dress and silver heels. “And, pardon me for noticing: you don’t seem to be adhering to the agreement, yourself. Not that I’m complaining.”

I flick his tie. Then, for good measure, I smooth the lapels of his jacket. The way he swallows makes my boiling blood worth it.

“I only dressed up because I had the feeling you would. I’ve never been to this restaurant, but when I looked up the address I knew it was a dressy kind of place.”

Theo offers his arm. I take it and let him lead me inside.

“For what it’s worth, I originally planned on tacos. Something low-key. But so many places are closed, now that tourist season’s over.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, “the Hamptons slow down a lot, this time of year. To tell you the truth, I’m shocked you’re still here.”

For a second, I panic. My brain Rolodexes through every word we’ve spoken since he helped me in the hardware store. Did he ever actually tell me he wasn’t a local?

Before I can think up a believable lie as to how I already knew this, Theo shrugs. “I don’t know why I stuck around past August, honestly.” He places his free hand overtop mine. “But I’m glad I did.”

I force another blush. It’s a useful talent, being able to redden on command like that. He falls for it every single time.

When we’re seated (he slipped the waiter money in a handshake so we’d get a good view; give me a fucking break), he asks if I’ve got a favorite wine.

“I don’t really know much about wine, actually.” I prop my chin in my hand, but decide this is too forward and sultry. This date isn’t about getting Theo Durham in bed as fast as possible—though I’m certain I could, if all his smiles and glances are any indication.

Tonight is about momentum. The more I build, the better. And that involves a little more shyness, sweetness...and hesitance. He’s going to work to win me over.

Shifting, I decide a more fitting move is to put my hands in my lap like I’m not quite sure