“Nice.” I reached up and scratched at the back of my head. “How about me using the word double standard?”
“That’s two words.”
“Well, at least my math sucks, huh? Does that fit better with your impression of me?”
She stopped shoving things into the drawer and seemed to slump a bit.
“I know this is temporary,” Tria said. She waved her hand in the direction of the open drawer. “I’ll put these things in here, and then in a couple of days or so, I’ll take them back out and go home. Same thing with the hotel.”
She paused and fiddled with the strap on the bag. She took a deep breath, licked her lips, and then continued.
“But at the apartment…” She paused again to consider her words. “Everything is different there. I don’t even know what to call it—your apartment, my apartment, our apartment—nothing seems right, so it’s just the apartment. You call it that, too.”
“I do?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
“Right now it just feels surreal,” she continued. “Like I’m going to wake up at some point and figure out that leaving Beals was all a dream.”
“More like a nightmare,” I retorted. “I mean, where you left was the nightmare. Whatever. That didn’t come out right.”
“It wasn’t,” she said. “I know you’ve mostly heard the bad stuff, but there are good people here. They’re all kind of like a big family. They take care of each other, and they took care of me. I miss it.”
That comment sent a chill over my skin.
“You’re making a new home,” I told her. “Isn’t that what you want?”
I hoped it was.
“Yes,” she said. “And I don’t want to come back, but I still miss parts of it. Nikki especially. She always makes me feel welcome here.”
“And I don’t,” I said.
“I didn’t say that.”
I reached over and placed my hand on the side of her face. I circled the edge of her jaw with my fingers. I had no idea what the right things to say were—I just knew I didn’t want her to feel like she wasn’t welcome where we lived now.
“Unpack your things,” I whispered. “I want you to stay there.”
Her teeth worried her lip, and she continued to look off to the side. I moved my head over until I was in her line of sight.
“I want you to stay there,” I repeated.
“Even if I don’t have sex with you?” she asked.
“Why do you keep harping on that?”
“Because it’s what yo
u want,” she replied. She moved her head away, effectively pulling out of my grasp. “You said it yourself—you don’t do relationships. You’re in it for the sex, and you aren’t getting any.”
If she had yelled it at me, I would have found it hot, but the way she said it—so quiet, and tired, and defeated—it just made my chest clench instead.
I was never one to pry into someone else’s psyche, but I needed to understand.
Chapter 22—Reveal the Past