Page 68 of Riot Reunion
“He hasn’t said anything. I haven’t told him,” I admit rather sheepishly. “After they gave the conservatory spot to someone else, it just felt so selfish.”
Presley’s look is so pointed, it could cut. “Sounds like you and Dash have some things to discuss. And after the talking to you just gaveme?” She nudges me teasingly with her elbow.
“All right. All right. Yes, Idosee the irony. I suppose we both have the opportunity to practice our effective communication skills with our guys.” I get up, squeezing a lump in the duvet that Ithinkis Presley’s knee. “Things might seem scary right now, but I promise it’s all gonna work out. For both of us. No matter what, okay?”
She smiles, nodding along with me, but fear still dances in her eyes. I wish I could take it away and relieve her of her worries. She really doesn’t deserve this. Out of all of us, Presley deserves to have an easy life for a while, but the universe keeps on lobbing curve balls at her. If there were a way to shoulder this burden for her, I would step into the breach without hesitation. For now, all I can do is fix her something to eat. “I’m gonna go make some lunch for you before Pax storms in here and tries to waterboard you with soup again. Sound good?”
She doesn’t refuse, which is a relief. I leave the room, my mind jostling with thoughts of Seattle, and England, babies, and the grilled cheese I’m about to go downstairs to make. I don’t see Pax sitting on the windowsill to my right until I turn directly to face him.
“Oh shit! Jesus Christ, you scared me!” I clutch my chest in an attempt to push my heart into place, back where it belongs. “Were you eavesdropping?” I demand.
“Damn straight, I was.”
“That was supposed to be between me and Pres.”
“Was it?” he asks nonchalantly. “Seemed to me like my stubborn ass girlfriend has been making herself sick and won’t fucking talk to me about anything, and I needed to find out where her head is at before I lost my own sanity.”
“Pax.”
“What?” He shrugs. “Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing if it was Dash.”
“That’s not the same.Dashcan’t get pregnant.”
“Sure about that? He does actverypissy for a week out of each month. I’ve always assumed he was ovulating.”
I try not to let his comment rile me, but boy, does he make it hard. “And there I was, defending you. Thinking that maybe you weren’t a complete asshole...”
Pax’s dark expression softens a little. He lets his head hang, eyes locked onto his hands. “There are only so many spots a mangy leopard can change, Mendoza. Right now, I’m figuring out how not to fuck up this deal with Chase. And besides. Dash likes it when I take shots at him. That’s how he knows I haven’t forgotten he exists.” He huffs out a soft breath of laughter, looking up at me from underneath his dark brows. I can’t remember another time when Pax has looked at me so directly. Addressed me so directly. With intent. “Youdiddefend me in there,” he says. ‘Why would you do that?”
His question takes me by surprise. Not that he would ask it. That he doesn’t already know the answer. “Presley adores you. She always has. But you? It took you a while to get there, but you worship the ground she walks on. I saw it at the academy. I heard it in your speech at graduation. I’ve witnessed it in your actions. You dropped everything on a dime and traveled across the country to go check on her because you knew something was up. And when you found out what was going on, you didn’t run. You showed up for her. So long as youkeepshowing up for her, I’ll keep showing up for you.”
He chews on this, his jaw working as he thinks. After a long beat, he looks up at me again and his edge of defiance has returned. “You know, you’re not half bad, Carrie Mendoza.”
For what feels like the fifth time in the past thirty minutes, Pax Davis surprises me. “Likewise. Now I’m gonna go before you somehow fuck this up and make me mad at you again. I’ll be back with a sandwich for Pres in a second. Maybe you could give her some space until she’s done eating. She doesn’t need you watching her chew every last mouthful.”
“That’s fair,” Pax says.
I begin to make my way down the stairs, heading for the kitchen.
“Hey, Mendoza?”
I stop and turn on the fourth step. “Yeah?”
Pax grins wickedly. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell Lovett that you said I was hot.”
“Jesus Christ. You just couldn’t let it slide, could you.”
23
PRESLEY
I feel better.I hate to admit it, but I do. With Carrie watching me like a hawk, I ate everything on my plate, and miracle upon miracles, I’ve kept the food down this time, too. Two whole hours pass after I finish the grilled cheese, and my stomach isn’t even grumbling. I’m so used to the twisting, rolling nausea that its absence leaves me feeling…well, frankly, I feel like a million bucks.
The sun’s hanging low in the sky, cradled on the canopy of the trees out of the window, when sleep takes me. It’s dark in Pax’s bedroom when I wake, the sound of my cell phone chirping persistently on the pillow beside my head.
I answer, mentally cringing at the sight of my father’s smiling face lit up on the screen. “Hi, Dad. I’m sorry, I know I said in the note I left that I’d call in the morning. I—I’ve just been so tired. The day kind of got away from me.”
His voice is so warm and familiar; I instantly feel like I’m five years old again, being comforted after a bad fall. “It’s okay, kiddo. I knew you were safe.”
