Page 5 of Sweet Hate
Shit, I thought I was alone in here. Now he’s going to have all sorts of questions I have no desire to answer.
“Yeah, bro, just dropped something.”
Like my sanity. Oh look, there it goes, swirling down the drain.
Resting my head on the tiles, I let the cold water run down my back, but it barely registers. Instead, I’m more alive than ever…yet completely numb.
It’s the adrenaline. Right?
I really need to get a grip and fast.
Beckett laughs before carrying on with some inane bullshit Ican’t bring myself to listen to right now, until the wordspink-haired smokeshowpenetrate the fuzz in my brain.
“What was that, B?” I do my best to keep my voice even while my heart rate works double time.
“I asked who that smokeshow from the bakery fire was. I haven’t seen her around here before, and with a face and body like that, I’d definitely remember.”
Thou shall not kill your best friend. Thou shall not kill your best friend.
Nostrils flaring, I pulverize the bar of soap I’ve been using, turning it into a pile of mush in my hand. He’s totally oblivious, I know that. It’s the only reason I haven’t punched him. “No one you need to worry about.”
“I might head down there in a couple of days, check to make sure her elbow is healing OK, and maybe ask her out for a drink. Didn’t see a ring on her finger. Whatcha reckon, Verona? She was a little flirty with me while I checked her over. Think I got a shot?”
Hell no.
I can’t listen to his bullshit anymore, especially when I hear the guys outside the showers hoot and holler. My usually rational brain is in full on hulk smash mode, and if I don’t get out of here, I’m likely to do something stupid.
The icy spray does nothing to cool the fire surging through my system. My blood boils, I know it’s not rational, and I shouldn’t feel this way, but I can’t seem to stop the inferno from building.
Throwing open the shower door so hard it crashes into the wall, I storm toward the locker room. The guys around me fall silent, likely in shock, but I don’t give a flying fuck.
After roughly toweling myself off, I pull my jeans on, the urgency to get out of here making my head swim.
I lift my head as I shrug on my leather jacket to find all three guys standing in their towels, staring at me.
“You good, Lieutenant?” Ryan, our rookie, asks before his eyes hit the floor when I don’t answer.
“Yeah, LT. You’ve had your panties in a twist since that last fire.” Max swaggers past me, smirking at his poor attempt at a joke, elbowing me in the side.
I don’t have time for this bullshit, and I especially don’t have time for Beckett’s questions. He assesses me with a shrewd gaze, and dammit, there’s no way he’s this dense. The man knows me as well as I know myself, and I can only hope he takes the hint and lets it be.
“Wait.” Lowering his voice, Beckett drops down on the bench beside my backpack. His eyes never leave mine. “Was that her?”
Not today, Satan. Not today.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, B.” Turning around, I address the crew who, of course, are all still focused on me, “Don’t you guys have homes to get to? Things to do?”
“Who wants to go home when we can hear all about why you lost your cool over that cute little pink cupcake, LT?” Max laughs. I’m struggling to keep calm, the crunching of the water bottle clenched in my fist a clear warning that I’m about to lose it.
“Bullshit…thatwasher, wasn’t it?” Beckett’s brows nearly hit his hairline, his voice rising with every word.
I ignore him. How do I explain my reaction when I can’t make sense of it myself?
“Who?” Max stops towel drying his hair, his eyes going from me to Beckett. “Share with the class, B. You saw him this morning. He practically snarled at us while shoving the shirt in her hands, telling her to cover up her tits. That was a damn shame, man.”
I glare at him, needing to wipe the smirk off his face before I lose my shit entirely.
“Will you shut the hell up, Max? I’m not above making you run drills until you can’t walk straight.”
