Gray’s shoulders bunch as he goes still and stares at Drew. When he speaks, his voice is cold and flat. “What are you implying, man?”
“Gray, he doesn’t…” I begin, but Gray holds up a hand, not taking his eyes off of Drew. “Let him say what he wants to say, Anna.” Gray’s nostrils flare a bit. “So tell me, are you accusing me of trying to make a play for your girl?” He’s pissed, more than I’ve ever seen him, but behind it is intense hurt. I hurt for both of them.
The corded muscles along Drew’s forearms stand out as he clenches a fist. They stare each other down, a combined four hundred plus muscled-pounds of growing male aggression. Neither of them appears to be willing to break eye contact first. Then Drew moves, so fast, I flinch.
His fist slams down on the table, rattling the plates. “No,” he snaps, then takes a harsh breath before shoving back from the table. “No, all right?” His movements are not with his usual grace when he rises, bumping his leg on the chair. “I’m just fucking tired of you two sneaking around trying to fix me.”
Sneaking around? I almost shout the words, I’m so irate, but I’m not going to fight with him in front of Gray.
Gray snorts. “We’re trying to help you.”
“Well, don’t.”
“Tough shit, Baylor. That’s what friends do.”
Drew’s jaw clenches. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Or am I expected to waltz around shooting daisies out my ass all the time?”
“I don’t care what you shoot out of your ass,” Gray says, “just as long as you aren’t accusing me of betraying my best friend.”
Drew flinches, his mouth pinching. But he doesn’t apologize. He walks away, his stride determined, awkward, and angry. “I’m going to bed,” he says, not looking back.
Gray stands. “I’ll go.”
“Don’t bother. Do whatever you want.” Drew pauses at the door to our room. He doesn’t turn but his fist curls on the doorframe. “Thanks for dinner.” The words are curt and clearly torn from him out of force of habit, and then he’s shutting the door behind him with a dull thud.
My shoulders sag. “I’m sorry, Gray.”
He shakes his head, his blue eyes still full of hurt and anger. “I expected it. Damn if he hasn’t been alluding to it for a while.”
“He doesn’t mean it, you know.” I’m not sure if he does or not. I do know that, were Drew his old self, he’d never have picked a fight with Gray.
Gray shakes his head. “He’s not jealous of us.” His voice is low, as if he doesn’t want Drew to hear. “He’s jealous of me, which just plain sucks.”
I frown, and he sighs.
“He’s injured, Anna. And I’m not. Simple as that.” Gray rolls his shoulders and heads for the door. “Get him to talk to that therapist. I don’t blame him for avoiding it,” his eyes crease with tired humor, “but he’s got one too many daisies stuck in his ass.”
ANNA DOESN’T COME to bed when Gray leaves. I’m not surprised. I fucked up. Worse, I knew I was doing it every step of the way. It was as if the rational Drew was locked up tight within my mind while asshole Drew took over.
Lying in bed, I stare up at the ceiling and curse myself for being an idiot. Again. It’s almost pitch black in here because Anna insists on closing both the blinds and the curtains. Apparently she likes to sleep in darkness so complete it’s like we’ve crawled up into a womb.
Which is fine by me at the moment. A sensory oblivion would be nice.
A slab of grey moonlight cuts across the bed as Anna opens the door. She must have killer night vision or be part vampire because she doesn’t turn on a light as she pads through the room and into the bathroom.
My heart pounds loud in my ears as I listen to the running water of the sink and wait for her to return. Coach’s suggestion swirls around in my head. Therapy? I’m only injured, not mental. Yeah, I tend to over-analyze things, but I didn’t exactly love going to counseling before.
“Tell me about your parents, Drew.”
“They’re dead, doc. What else is there to know?”