“Breakfast with Heidi.”
He makes a sleepy noise and presses his arms over his head, stretching. The sheets pool around his waist, dropping to his tan, muscular “V.” “I want you for breakfast.”
My mouth goes dry, but I turn away from him as I gather my hair into a short ponytail at the top of my head. I’ve composed myself by the time I face him again. Leaning my butt against the cherry wood TV stand, I c**k my head to the side. “You’ll be here when I come back?”
He shakes his head, and his full lips draw down into a frown. “Setting up with Hazard Anthem and running through the set. Then I’ve got a few more things to take care of. Won’t be back until right before it’s time to get you tonight.”
I try not to think about whether or not Terra, with her late night party invitations, will be there. “I’ll text you if I get need anything,” I promise. When he cocks an eyebrow suggestively, I groan. “That’s all you think about.”
“Your ass is too good not to.”
I’m still feeling the effect of his words as I sprint down the stairs to the lobby. Once Heidi sees me, she pops up from her chair and meets me halfway. “What took you so long?”
“What the hell is wrong with me?” I ask breathlessly. She looks me up and down, examining everything from my clothes to my messy hairstyle, before she cocks an eyebrow and shrugs. I release a frustrated moan. “It’s Wyatt. He touches me or talks to me, and I’m a total wreck.”
“Yikes, I thought we weren’t supposed to touch the subject of Wyatt’s junk with a giant pole,” she reminds me, her voice lowered to a whisper. As we take the revolving door to the outside of the hotel, she whips her gaze over to me. “Something’s happened since yesterday morning.”
“I’m batshit insane.”
“He wants a second chance?” She points her finger right, to the restaurant next door. As we walk across the hotel parking lot, she answers her own question before I have the chance. “And you’re seriously thinking about it?” Heidi’s soft voice is full of amazement.
I slide my hands up the fronts of my jeans, wiping the perspiration from my palms. “He doesn’t want to give me up.”
“Because he’s not stupid, Kylie,” she says as I hold the restaurant door open for her. She dashes inside, smiling and holding up two fingers at the hostess. Lowering her voice as we follow the woman to our table, Heidi says, “He’ll fight for you, but if you decide you don’t want to be with him, what then?”
I wait until we’re alone to answer her. “If I’m happy he won’t pursue me.”
Her pink lips press into a thin line, and I know she’s calling bullshit. “Did he tell you that?” When I nod, she shakes her head. “Do you think that’ll actually happen? He’s addicted to you.”
Our waiter, a skinny guy with tattooed wrists peeking out from his long-sleeved button-up, stops by our table to take our order. I point to a random spot on the menu, which turns out to be the western omelet. I barely even notice the way the waiter’s eyes scan over me as he takes our menus and promises to return shortly with our drinks.
Heidi sighs. “And obviously you’re too addicted to him to notice anyone else.”
I run my finger back and forth over the corner of my napkin, skimming the prongs of my fork. There’s no point denying what she pointed out just now and so many other times before. I’m addicted to Wyatt on so many levels that it’s apparent to anyone who sees us together, who knows what we’re like apart.
We hurt each other.
Then we mend ourselves.
And then, we do it all over again, only more violently.
Wyatt and I are our worst enablers. If I hadn’t gone to New Orleans, I probably would have been fine. If I’d simply stayed in Nashville and gone to him instead, this wouldn’t be a conflict. But for the second time since we started this twisted thing, I hadn’t gone to him. I hadn’t met him halfway.
He came to me.
Our waiter returns to the table, a dimpled grin sliding easily over his features as he sets my orange juice down in front of me. “Need anything else?” he asks, and Heidi covers her mouth and coughs.
I ignore her. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
He asks Heidi the same, but with a little less enthusiasm, and when he leaves, she eye-humps him up until he turns the corner. “I swear, Kylie, you’re like sex on a—”
Chevelle blasts loudly from the inside of my pocket. I scramble to grab my phone as several people around us turn in our direction, their eyebrows gathering together. Pressing my thumb to the button on the side of the iPhone, I manage to silence it. I flip the phone over and wrinkle my nose up when I see Unknown Caller.
“It might be Townsend calling about our stuff.” I stand up, and Heidi bobs her head enthusiastically as if she truly believes that all of our belongings have been recovered and aren’t currently in a New Orleans pawnshop. “Be right back,” I promise, leaving her at our table.
I accept the call but wait until I dart out of the front door to say hello.
“I’m trying to reach Lucas Wolfe,” a crisp female voice says.
If someone is calling this number for my brother, it’s no doubt a business call. I turn on my professional voice, smiling widely to sound more pleasant. “This is his assistant, Kylie. I’d be more than happy to help you.” I hear the sound of the woman’s fingers flying over a keyboard rapidly. A moment later she asks me to verify the last four digits of both my and Lucas’s social security number. Once I do so, she tells me who she is.