Page 36 of Pour Decisions
I scrutinize her expression more than I wish I had to. I wish trusting her completely was habit, but I’ve caught her in small white lies before. Nothing of this magnitude, but it’s important—I want to be sure of her answer.
“Of course not, Trina,” Mom says, horrified. “That’s terrible on both their parts. That man would do something like that. He couldn’t manage his money to save his life. So-called businessman. And I’m not pro-violence, but he kind of deserved to get his ass beat for how he was acting. I don’t blame that ex of yours for losing it.”
She seems genuinely horrified, so the tension in my body fades a little. And I’m glad she acknowledged that she doesn’t blame JD for his actions, even though beating someone up isn’t exactly the answer.
“I know. Not that I thought you did, but I was just wondering,” I say, holding a hand up.
“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Mom says, grabbing the second bottle of wine she grabbed as we slammed most of the lasagna. Shetops us off yet again. “Let’s toast to leaving all of that buried in the past for good.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
JD
I eatthe entire plate of cookies Katrina brings me.
Katrina.JustKatrina. Not kitten or any of the other nicknames I had for her.
But the temptation to slip back into how we were in the past, with our nicknames and casual touches, is so fucking strong that I don’t know how to stop it. Kat with a plate of cookies and a smile? I don’t know how I managed to not pull her into my lap and kiss her.
At least she’s out for the night. She was dressed casually and slipped out before I could ask where she was going. Not that I could face her without doing something stupid.
I wrap up my work and heat up dinner, some leftovers from the other night. Bubba joins me on the couch while I watch a few documentaries I’ve been meaning to get to. Sitting still, especially with Bubba flopped onto my lap, is making my back ache again.
I push the coffee table to the side and get on the floor to start my stretches. Moments later, the door opens and I hear Katrina thumping around.
“Trying to get extra credit?” Kat asks.
“Nope.” I look her up and down. She’s clearly tipsy, her smile loose. “How did you get home?”
“A cab. My mom will drive my car over tomorrow morning once her boyfriend is back in town,” she says.
“You were with your mom?” My brain immediately goes on high alert and some supporting muscles around my core twinge.
“Yes. And we’re better. Way better.” She leans against the doorframe between the hall and living room. “I think she’s in a good place with a decent guy this time. And she finally has a job that pays her what she deserves. She’s a lot less stressed.”
I nod, even though I’m wary. Katrina might have forgiven her mom for all the shit she put her through when she was growing up, but I’m not as nice as she is.
I shift a bit and pain shoots up my back—not as bad as the initial injury, but enough for me to grunt. I fall to my knees and rest my hands on them, my face hot. She’s seen me in this state before, but it’s different when I’m in the clinic surrounded by others doing the same thing.
“Where’s your pain, on a one to ten scale?” she asks, suddenly more sober.
“Just a five, maybe.” I take a deep breath. “It’s better now. I just pushed it. I’m not used to being this weak.”
And I’m not used to admitting that either, or the sting of embarrassment that comes with it.
She comes into the living room and sits on the couch next to me.
“I had to do physical therapy after my knee injury in college. I was doing way too much dance and not resting even though I should have.” She gives me a pointed look at that. “And it sucked a lot. I was so used to dancing six days a week, then I suddenly had to work from the ground up to do basic stuff.
“But I learned that doing that then would allow me to be better in the future, so I focused on that instead. You’re just warming up for new PRs.” She shrugs.
I mull over her words for a second. She’s always upbeat, but realistic, and the contrast to my own generally pessimistic attitude is exactly what I need in moments like this. That deep, almost physical feeling of appreciation fills my chest as much as I try to tamp it down. That’s why everything felt so right with her—we contrasted each other, but complemented where we needed it most.
“Makes sense,” I finally say after clearing my throat.
“I know you’d brush me off if I said something like ‘everyone is weak sometimes’.” She smiles and my heart flips over in my chest.
This is fucking terrible. Just as bad as it felt when I first started falling for her—like the downward swoop on a rollercoaster. Terrifying but fun.
