Page 91 of Coming Up Roses

Cash

Four days.Four days without her smile. Her laugh. Her voice. Fuck. Four days without her touch. Four days, and I’m a goddamn mess.

I kept thinking she’d call again—praying she’d call again. But she didn’t, and I’m too prideful to call her. No, instead, I keep listening to her voicemails on repeat. I’ve read her texts so many times I’ve memorized them. I miss her so much that I don’t know what to do with myself.

But I’m also so fucking angry with her and hurt. She knows everything I went through with Kayla, and yet she so readily put me through it again. Makes me wonder if I ever even knew her.

My phone rings on the coffee table, and I lunge toward it, hoping it’s Myla Rose. Mad or not, I ache to hear her sweet voice. She’s like a sickness I can’t seem to purge. I deflate when I see Drake’s name on the screen, but I answer his call anyway. I’ve shut everyone out, and it’s well past time to rejoin the rest of the world, broken heart or not.

“Hey, D, what’s up?”

“Not much. You wanna drive out for lunch?” He sounds oddly hopeful, and I really do need to get outta the house.

“Yeah, I’ll see you in twenty.” I disconnect the call, hop in the shower, and throw on what I hope are clean clothes before hitting the road.

* * *

When I pullup to Drake’s, I’m instantly on edge. There are familiar vehicles scattered throughout his yard. Doing a quick inventory, I see Simon’s truck, Jake’s SUV, and . . . my mom’s Camry. What the hell is going on?

To ease my building anxiety, I reason that maybe it’s just a big BBQ, and all our families will be coming. Yeah, that’s it. Now if only I believed that.

I bypass knocking and let myself in. Shockingly, or maybe not, everyone is gathered in the living room as if they’d been waiting for me.

My mom is the first to greet me. “Cash, baby, I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, Mom, me too. Not to be rude, but why are y’all here?”

This time, it’s Simon who speaks up. “We have shit to say, and you need to listen. Drake volunteered his house. Figured you wouldn’t step foot in mine.” And he’d be right about that.

“Talk about what?” I ask, lowering myself into the only available chair. In the very center of the room. Seriously, I’m the middle of a goddamn circle. Yeah, this isn’t a family BBQ. Not at all.

“About Myla Rose,” Drake tells me.

Hearing her name has my spine straightening and my hair standing on end. “So, it’s like that?”

“Yeah, Cash, it is,” Drake says solemnly.

Glancing around the room, I feel caged and cornered. “Can’t say I’m really feeling that right now.”

“Oh, baby. You need to listen to your friends,” Mom supplies.

“Do I? Why are you and Jake even here?

“I’m here because when I ran into Drake at the store the other day, I mentioned not hearing from you, and being the sweet boy that he is, he informed me as to why. I’m not gonna let you throw this girl and her baby away over some little misunderstanding.”

“Yeah, because being lied to for a month and catching her lip-locked with her ex is some ‘little misunderstanding’,” I tell her using air-quotes. “And why are you here, Jake?”

“I’m just here for the show, brother.” Fucking asshole.

“Of course you are.” Shaking my head, I slump down, resting my elbows on my knees. “Let’s just get this shit-show on the road, yeah?”

“Be glad everyone else favored talking sense into you. My idea was to beat it into you.”

“Thanks, Simon. Really, thanks.” My sarcasm drips, coating the room.

Simon bolts from his chair. “I’d be more than happy to beat the shit outta you. Follow through on my promise—I told you not to hurt her.”

I laugh a dry, hollow laugh. “Me, hurt her? Riiiight.”

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