Page 61 of The True Garza
True:You lied. There’s nothing “good” about this crazy. This crazy is driving me crazy.
Lexi:So you can’t answer my calls or messages but you can text my wife?
True:Fuck off. Where’s Lexi?
Lexi:She’s sleeping. What do you mean you’re going crazy? Something happened at the meeting?
True:No. It was fine. Wake up Lexi.
Lexi:Not waking my wife, she’s got a business to run and needs her rest. Find a real therapist. Preferably a man so you’ll keep it in your pants this time.
True:Yeah, I own half the business she runs. Wake her up so we can talk strategies.
Lexi:*laughing emoji*So NOW you remember you own half the business?
True:*middle finger emoji*
Lexi:Sorry you had to do the meeting, I know it’s hard for you.
Lexi:Tor finally approved six of our top picks from the trainees, so we’ll need your advice and recommendation on who to transfer here from Denver. Once we’ve got more commandos here, we’ll have more breathing room so you won’t ever have to sit in for me at another dinner meeting.
True:If you’re not gonna wake Lexi then fuck off.
Lexi:Love you too bro.
CHAPTER Seventeen
“I’m not your fucking pet.”
Lonny
True is ready and waitingwhen I make it downstairs the following morning. In a black button-down and dark denims. No pacing this time.
He seems calmer. Well-rested. Chill. Theoppositeof how I’m feeling. As big and comfortable as that bed upstairs is, it did nothing to lull me out of the reality that we were sleeping under the same roof andnothaving hot sex. Especially after that kiss.
“Mornin’,” he greets, a sliver of his signature grin peeking through.
Oh, fuck you.
I move right past him and make a beeline for the door. If I think of him as his asshole twin, ignoring him—despisinghim—should be easy.
I’m out the door, trekking several steps ahead of him.
Behind me, there’s the sound of the door closing and the jingle of keys.
Increasing my pace, I’m borderline jogging down the steps and along the sinuous pathway.
And, still, I’m unable to out-walk his heavy footfalls, which close in on me. The heat of his hand settling at the curve where my neck meets my shoulder. “Hey, what—”
“If you want to keep that hand”—I halt my steps—“then fucking remove it.”
A long pause.
Hesitation.
“Now,Trent.”
A beat, then, “I’m True, London.”
