Page 46 of How May I Please You

Trey eyes me wearily. “Yeah, it’s cool,” he says before turning to you. “You didn't have to do all of this. I honestly figured we would've talked it out and squashed it when we saw each other at work. You didn't have to come by, and you damn sure didn't have to bring me beer that you know I’m not about to drink.”

You let out a forced laugh. “Shut up, it was all we had. Well, we had some wine, but I love that too much to give it to you. It was a misunderstanding, but not that big of a misunderstanding.”

Trey chuckles, and when he turns to look at me, I force myself to giggle. I look at you as the annoying sound leaves my body and your smile vanishes in an instant.

“Anyway,” you say, seemingly to shut me up. “This is already awkward as fuck, so we’re going to let you go inside and have a good night. I’ll see you on the job site.”

“Yeah, okay,” Trey says, still looking puzzled. “Take that gross ass beer with you. If I didn't like you so much I’d be offended that you even brought that over here.”

You laugh as you turn away. “Shut up.”

Trey chuckles to himself as he gives me a quick nod of his head and continues up the driveway. I begin to backpedal toward my car just as he enters the house and closes the door. Once he's gone, I think to run to you. I know you must have a million thoughts in your head, and we need to talk. I have no idea how I’ll explain myself, but I have to talk to you.

But by the time I look in your direction, your truck has already started and you're driving away.

storm

chapter

twenty-eight

When I get home, my mind is still in a tailspin. I caught her red-handed, a hammer grasped tightly in her hand and raised above his head. If not for me calling his name at the last second, Trey would be dead. Journey would have killed him. My friend. She would have killed my fucking friend.

My wine glass rests on the coffee table in the same place it was when I left. When I sit down, I grab it and chug half, then I throw the entire glass across the room. It makes an impact with the TV, ruining the screen and sending red liquid splattering everywhere.

“What the fuck?” I scream to myself as I stand up and begin pacing in complete disbelief. She faked that phone call while I was in the kitchen. Her partner never called her, and if she lied about that, what else has she been keeping from me?

The fucking diner.

I stop pacing and stare at the wall. Is it true? After I let it go and tried to keep my mind on Summers and keeping us safe; could I have been right about the diner the entire time? Why not question it now? She was going to kill Trey, and probably had a plan to lie to me about it. I bet she would have made up some story about a robbery gone wrong or some fucking bullshit like that. I never would have known what happened to my friend. How fucking could she?

As my thoughts fill me with both grief and rage, the sound of the garage raising freezes me. My thoughts focus solely on what I will say to her when I see her. Why is she even getting back so much later than me? You see what happens when you fucking lie? Now I have to question everything.

When she walks in, I see the panic in her face when we make eye contact. She steps over the threshold, lets the door close behind her, and stands in front of it. She waits for me to start, which somehow makes me even more livid.

“What’s the matter?” I start, seething. “Have you run out of lies to tell?”

“Sir,” she starts, but I snap.

“Don't fucking call me that!” I bark. “All I want to hear from you is why. Why were you going to kill him, Journey? I’ve told you that Trey is the only person I've called my friend, and you disregarded that completely. You didn't even care how much it might hurt me to lose my only friend? You felt that slighted over him asking me to not make fun of Cain?”

“He didn't ask, S … Evan. He told you. He demanded. He disrespected you.”

“No he fucking did not. What the hell is wrong with you? You think a grown man isn’t allowed to voice his opinion as long as you're around, and doing so should result in death? Being a grown up and communicating should result in blunt force fucking trauma to the back of the head? You can’t be serious.”

“I didn't know what else to do,” she says, her eyes filling with tears that gain her no sympathy from me.

“Bullshit,” I say. “I told you what to do. I demanded that you leave it alone and let me handle it. I’m your Dom, and I fucking told you. You just didn't listen. You made a decision on my behalf and chose to end Trey’s life regardless of how I felt about it. Plus, you made up that bullshit story about your partner calling you, and even put on a fucking skit to carry it out. You made up all that bullshit right in front of me so that you could go kill my friend.”

“I'm sorry,” she cries.

“No you're fucking not. You're only saying that because you got caught, just like every other liar and cheater in the world. Even now, you're still lying and unapologetic about it.”

“What?”

“Don't play fucking stupid with me, Journey.”

“What are you talking about?”

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