“No. I mean, I accepted his request because I was curious. He apologized to me.” She says it with surprise, and shrugs. “That was kind of nice to hear.”
“I guess.” Just like it was nice to have Krystal’s apology. As horrible as she was, that was years ago. Maybe everyone deserves a second chance. But what Krystal did and what DJ did aren’t exactly on the same level. “What does he want?”
“Nothing. He saw the news and remembered that you and I lived together. It made him start thinking about me.”
My eyes dart to the bathroom. “Don’t bring up that night with him. Or Brenna.”
“Relax! He doesn’t even talk to Matt anymore. Matt tried to pin everything on him. DJ hates his guts now.”
“Still . . . if you keep talking to DJ, don’t mention her or that night.”
“Please. If that night ever comes up, it’ll be me asking him who he screwed while I wasn’t looking, besides Jacqueline Forester,” she mutters, studying her nails.
While I’m helping Brenna dry off and dress from her bath, I hear the door creak open and Keith’s low murmur of greeting. Thankfully, the running sink drowns out the sound of Misty and him casually flirting back and forth.
“Do you ever stop jumping around?” Keith says as Brenna skips out of the bathroom in a fresh pair of pajamas. He’s dressed in uniform for his shift tonight.
“Nope! Why are you here? We’ve already seen you, like, all day long.”
“Just thought I’d check in before I go to work. Is that okay?
“I guess.”
He watches her do laps around him. “Did you have fun today?”
“Yup.”
“Do you like Brett, Brenna?” Misty asks casually, feigning innocence.
“Yeah. He’s nice.”
Misty throws a mischievous grin my way. “Your mom thinks so, too.”
“Yeah. She smiled a lot today. Her eyes weren’t sad.”
Again with the sad eyes. She says it so innocently, and yet I can’t help but flinch. Is that how my child will remember me? I check my watch. “Why don’t you pick out a book to read with Uncle Jack. He said he’d come by and say good night.” We are conveniently on his jog home from the gym. Though, to be honest, I think he’d detour if we weren’t.
Her eyes light up. “Can Uncle Jack sleep here? Please?”
It’s endearing, how much she loves him. “I’m not sure you two would fit in your bed.”
“Well . . .” Her face twists with thought. “We could sleep in your bed, and you could take my bed.”
Always the problem solver. I can already tell that I’m going to have a harder time with her as she gets older. “Uncle Jack has to get up early for work and he needs his sleep. He isn’t used to having little girls in his bed with him.” Both Misty and Keith snort, earning my warning glare. “Okay. Go on, now.” I send her off with a playful pat against her bum.
“So? All good around here?” Keith helps himself to a glass of milk, frowning at the single beer in my fridge. Jack left him one, at least.
“Yup, we were just talking about how Brett Madden basically professed his undying love to Cath today.” My warning glare doesn’t shut Misty up. “So how does a guy do it when he’s wearing a cast, anyway? I mean, it’d be hard to be on top, wouldn’t it? I guess he’d have to just be on the bottom, and be careful not to bang his leg on anything, right?”
I dare a glance at Keith to find him taking his time with his milk, his glass tipping slowly back. Questions like that are par for the course with Misty, but when it’s pretty clear she’s talking about Brett and me having sex . . .
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never broken my leg,” he answers calmly, placing the glass in the sink.
There’s a long, lingering moment, where the mood in my house shifts. Misty finally gets a clue and makes a face.
Keith fishes his keys from his pocket. “I have some paperwork left that I should finish before Kerby skins my ass. Call if you need me, Cath.” His expression has smoothed over to that unreadable cop face, the one he uses to hide whatever’s going on inside his head. Or his heart.
Misty cringes as he walks out the door. “Shit. I’m sorry. I thought you already filled him in.”
I give her a flat look.
“Right. Why would you rush to talk to your best guy friend who’s secretly in love with you about another man. Yeah. I’m a little slow sometimes, okay?”
I dart out the door. “Hey, Keith! Wait up!”
He’s almost at his car. His feet slow, but it’s a long moment before he turns to face me. “What’s up, Wright?”
He rarely uses my last name, and when he does, he’s usually doing his best to create distance between us.
I don’t even know how to approach this. We’ve never actually addressed any feelings that Keith might have for me.
I finally decide on “I know you’re the one who called Brett about coming today. I just wanted to say thanks.”
Keith’s unreadable gaze shifts to a spot behind me. “It’s no big deal, really.” And yet I can clearly hear the lie in his voice, I can feel the tension swirling around him. “It’s all good. See you later.” He turns back toward his car.
“Keith.”
“Whatever makes you happy, makes me happy, Cath. Always. You know that.”
I fight against the prickly ball forming in my throat and the tears forming in my eyes. “You’re the best friend I could ever ask for.”
He turns back to face me again, his jaw tightening as he nods. “So . . . you and Madden? Is it real?”
“I don’t know what it is,” I answer honestly. Real for now?
“But you want it to be.”
“I don’t know.” That’s a lie. “Yes.”
Keith chuckles, dropping his focus to the stones under his boot. “Well, I’ve never seen you look at a guy like you look at him.”
“It’s just . . . I’m scared. He’s so convinced that this isn’t just because I saved his life. What if he’s wrong? What if he decides I’m not what he wants?”
Keith offers me a sympathetic smile. “You mean when he decides, right? Because you just keep doing everything you can to convince yourself that he will.”
I forget sometimes just how well Keith knows me—my fears and my insecurities. “How could he not?”
His gaze roves over my face. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and then he reaches up to skate his thumb over my cheekbone, catching the tears as they start to roll.
He lets his hand fall away. “You know what, maybe he will and maybe he won’t, but if you don’t even try, you’ll only have yourself to blame.” He hesitates. “You think I’m upset because I can’t handle you falling for another guy? Yeah, I’ll admit it’s hard for me, but that’s not what this is about. How many excuses have you come up with already? Let me see . . . Madden’s a celebrity and you’re a waitress so it’ll never work, right? I’m sure Hildy has had something cynical to say that hasn’t helped your confidence.” He counts on his fingers. “What else? Photographers are a pain in the ass, that’s another strike against Madden. Another reason to avoid taking a chance to be happy. With a really decent guy, by the way.”