Me: Awesome! I’m so happy to hear you still have that conversation. That wasn’t embarrassing for me or anything.
Reed: It’s safe with me. Only I know how deprived you are of dick.
I set the phone down and grab a glass of milk out of the fridge. Deprived of dick? Hardly. Reed made sure of that.
Oh, no. Don’t go there right now.
My ringtone sounds from the couch. After grabbing another cookie and carrying it across the room with my glass, I set it down on the coffee table and pick up my phone.
“Yesss?” I answer, playfully stretching out the word.
“You didn’t respond.”
His voice is tight. Was he worried I wouldn’t?
I dunk my cookie into the milk. “I was getting a drink.” I take a bite. “For my cookie. Did you think I was going to make you wait another six days?”
His dry laugh fills my ear. “The thought crossed my mind. What are you doing?”
“Eating cookies.”
“Besides that.”
“Nothing.” I lean back onto the couch, tucking my feet under my butt. “Are you on break?”
I hear a door close. “Not really. I feel like I fucking need one though. If my sister’s asshole boyfriend doesn’t stop screwing shit up, I might have to fake an illness and go home. He’s getting on my last fucking nerve.”
Riley. I completely forgot about that awkward discovery yesterday.
“Even if it had been a whole five minutes, Reed lasts a lot longer than that.”
Jesus Christ. Thank God that’s all I said.
“Have you talked to her lately?” I ask.
“Who?”
“Your sister. Did she tell you we know each other?”
There is a long pause, then finally, “Uh, no. How do you know Riley?”
Leaning forward, I dunk the other half of the cookie into the milk, then pop the rest of it in my mouth, chewing before saying, “We volunteer together at Holy Cross Soup Kitchen. She’s really sweet. I like her.”
“You volunteer at the soup kitchen?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I used to be homeless.”
An even longer pause settles between us this time. I shift uncomfortably on the couch, untucking my legs and pulling my knees against my chest. His breath quickens in my ear.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You were homeless?”
“I wouldn’t joke about something like that.”
“What the fuck, Beth?” he growls, startling me.
I rub the part of my shin I’ve just dug my nails into. “Jeez, calm down.”
“Calm down? Why the hell don’t I know about this?”
I wipe my hand off on my shorts and fall back onto the couch, feet at one end, head at the other. “Um, I don’t know. I guess it never came up.”
And it’s not something I usually like to talk about.
He draws out his next breath. “When?” he curtly demands.
I pick at my lip.
“When, Beth?” He sounds pressing, maybe even a little urgent.
Because I didn’t tell him? Because he doesn’t like the idea of me going through that?
Pinching my eyes shut, I think of how different things would’ve been if I lived here when my momma died. Maybe I never would’ve been homeless. Or if I was, maybe it would’ve been Reed who came up to my window that day, offering me food and some company.
What would he have thought of me?
“Beth,” Reed says gently, losing the edge in his voice. “When?”
I stare up at the ceiling. “Right after my momma died. It wasn’t for very long.”
“And then you found out about your aunt and moved here?”
“No.” The bottom of my shirt becomes bunched in my fist. “No, I was living with someone when I found out about my aunt.”
Please don’t ask me anymore. I don’t want to talk about . . .
“Who?”
Shit.
“Nobody. Just this guy I met. It doesn’t matter. Look, I’m volunteering because I want to. It’s nice to do things for other people. You should try it sometime.” I sit up slowly as my heart pounds against my ribs. Wow. Way to freak out a little. “I’m sorry. That sounded really bitchy.”
“I’m just wondering why you didn’t tell me this before. I thought we were getting to know each other.”
“We were.” I swallow, my voice quieting when I continue. “We are. I just don’t like to talk about it. I’m here now. I’m not living in my car anymore. That’s all that matters.”
What would Reed think of me if he knew I lived with a man who told me daily how worthless I was? Who got off on it? I can’t risk him losing respect for me. Living with Rocco was about survival. Doing what I had to do. Not in the beginning, but that’s what it became a few weeks after I moved in. But Reed might not understand that. I doubt most people would.
It’s hard to imagine how bad things can be when you’ve never had everything taken away from you.
Reed sighs just as my phone beeps with an incoming call. Mia’s name flashes on my screen.
I place the phone back to my ear. “Um, hey, I gotta go. Mia’s calling me.”
“All right, yeah, I need to get back to work anyway.”
“Okay.” I suck on my bottom lip. “I guess I’ll talk to you later.”
“Beth?”
“Mm?”
Another pause has my back rigid against the couch.
God, I hate that I can’t see his face through his silence. Is he mad right now? Disappointed that we’re having to get off the phone?
These stupid pauses are going to give me a heart attack.
“Nothing,” he murmurs. “Forget it. I’ll talk to you later.”
The call ends. I click over to answer Mia before my head has time to fill with a thousand more questions.
“Hey, how are you?”
A quiet sniffle comes through the phone, and I’m once again stiffening against the cushions.
“Mia?”
“Beth, can you do me a favor?” she asks through a timid voice.
“Are you okay?”
I’m on my feet, carrying my glass over to the sink in case this favor involves leaving.
“No.” Her voice breaks with a whimper. “No, that’s why I’m calling.”
Reed
“NOTHING.”
Fuck. She has to go. Hang up before you start sounding like a desperate little bitch.
My free hand wraps around the door handle. “Forget it. I’ll talk to you later.”
Ending the call, I hop out of my truck and tuck my phone back into the front pocket of my safety vest. My back hits the door as I run a rough hand down my face.
Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with me? Beth tells me she used to be homeless, and I act like a fucking psycho and yell at her for not mentioning this to me before? Yeah, I calmed down, but initially . . . shit, I fucking yelled at her. I was frustrated, angry, confused as hell for feeling frustrated and angry. I don’t know why. I know how this woman gets to me. I know she’s going to make me feel things I don’t understand. But it didn’t matter. The second those words came out of her mouth, I lost it. The thought of Beth living on the streets had me seconds away from smashing out every window of my goddamn truck. Someone could’ve grabbed her, could’ve put their fucking hands on her. Then I got jealous of every other person she’s told about this before me. I can’t handle not knowing everything about this woman. The good, the bad, the fucking ugly shit she gets quiet about. I want all of it, and I want her to feel like she can give it to me.