Her chin snapped up. “Really? And what do you call threatening to shoot John?”
So Quarles had told his sister that, huh? “That wasn’t butting in, that was just me telling a guy what will happen if he starts dicking with my sister.”
She almost smiled. “But maybe I want some—”
“Just stop right there. I don’t want to hear it.”
Susan’s eyebrows suddenly arched. “This thing between you and Cali, it’s serious, isn’t it?”
He snatched his keys from the end table. “I don’t know. But I won’t find out if I don’t bring her back here.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Cali sat in Tanya’s kitchen. “And then I don’t know why, but I grabbed his toothbrush to fish out the condoms.”
Tanya held her stomach because she was laughing so hard and, for some reason, so was Cali. It felt good to laugh, almost as releasing as a good cry.
“So did you ever tell him about the condoms?”
“No. I just hid them in the bottom of his cabinet.”
Tanya’s doorbell rang and was followed by a loud whacking knock. “Ten to one, that’s Mr. Little Dickhead,” Tanya said. “Probably wanting to know what you did with his condoms.”
“Oh, shit!” Cali said.
“Did I hear you right?” Tanya snickered. “Did you actually say a naughty word?”
Cali frowned. “Yeah, I guess this Charmin-faced girl has been hanging around the wrong people lately.”
“Is he so wrong?”
“I was talking about you.” The doorbell rang again.
Tanya laughed again. “What do you want me to do?”
Cali pulled her knees up to her chest. Her toenails, freshly painted with two coats since she’d arrived at Tanya’s, stood out like beacons in red. She moaned. She didn’t know what she wanted.
Talking to Tanya had taken the edge off Cali’s panic, or maybe it was the toenail painting. Either way, she’d even told Tanya about the dreams. Her friend had basically agreed with Dr. Roberts—the dreams were just Cali’s mind dealing with the stress and grief. But what did Cali believe?
Great. She didn’t know what she wanted, or what she believed. She was just one indecisive chick, with some really bright red toenails.
The doorbell rang again. Cali hugged her knees.
“It’s your call,” Tanya said. “I can tell him to go float his boat down a different stream, and we can paint your toenails again, or I can ask him in, and give you two some space.”
The knock came harder. “I don’t think I should stay with him anymore.”
“Then I’ll tell him.” Tanya started to get up.
“No,” Cali said. “I’d better tell him myself.” Barefoot, toenail polish still gluey, she duck-walked out of the kitchen.
“Okay,” Tanya said. “But stick to your guns, be strong.”
Guns ready, and trying to keep her toes apart, Cali moved to the door. She pressed her eye to the peephole, just to make sure it was Brit. The last thing she wanted was to confront Stan. And if he’d found her at the hotel, maybe he could find her here.
She saw blue-green grieving eyes, and her heart melted. She opened the door, swallowing a lump of raw emotion. He looked like the walking dead. The man needed to go to bed. She got a flashback of them in his bed last night. To sleep, she added to the thought.
He didn’t speak. Just stared. She cleared her throat.
The muscle in his cheek twitched. “We need to talk. Will you please come home with me?”
She inhaled, remembering she had guns to stick to. But where were her guns and what exactly was she supposed to stick to? Then she remembered. “I think I should stay here, Brit.”
“Why?” Hurt echoed in his voice. Her heart responded, and her grip on her guns weakened.
“You know why.” She stood a little straighter.
He pushed a hand over his face. “You said no and I stopped.”
She stared down at her toenails and decided they could use a dozen or so more coats. Then squaring her shoulders again, she faced him. “It’s not that. Or only part of that.”
“Then what else is it?” He fell against the doorframe.
His scent surrounded her, and she closed her eyes for a second.
“You think I’m lying to you about Stan,” she said. “You think I’m like your mother. And you don’t even like her very much. And while I don’t think I’m anything like her, I sure as heck don’t like you thinking I’m some kind of perverted woman who likes to be abused.”
He reached up and pinched the tip of his nose and closed his eyes as if trying to gather his thoughts. “You’re right. I was wrong to accuse you of talking to Stan.”
“Oh, and you just suddenly believe me, huh?”
“I wish I was that smart. But no. The hotel clerk found a print-out of your online credit card bill. Stan somehow got your password and printed out the charge to the hotel. And I know that makes me an even bigger ass, but I’m trying to be honest.”