Page 93 of The Last Good Man

“Were you?”

“No. But that’s beyond the point.”

“Drop it then. You can’t be my mother, but I can be your daddy if you want me to,” he jokes.

“Uh… Forget about it. I’m trying to make a point here.”

I look around, scratching my head.

“So, how old are you exactly?”

“If you are thirty-four…”

I shot him a questioning look.

“I read your biography,” he says.

“Uh-huh. Go on… So, you’re twenty-four then?”

He gestures as if to say,‘It wasn’t that hard, was it?’

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be twenty-five before you’re thirty-five, and then the age gap will be smaller.”

I flick my hand up, annoyed.

“Oh… Bite me.” My voice quickly changes. “I can’t believe you.”

I’m mad, seriously mad, realizing how much I like Jax London, who fucked with my life.

The news derails me so badly that I need time to let it all sink in and get a grip on myself.

I pick up his jacket and toss it onto the couch.

“You’re not coming anywhere near me tonight. I need to think this through. You can sleep over there.”

I point to the couch.

“You’re not kicking me out?” he says, barely withholding his laughter.

“You can leave if you want to.”

His lips crease into a smile.

“I’ll take the couch.”

“Good. And you stay there. I need to go take a shower.”

17

MELODY

I spend a long time in the shower to clear my head.

No sound comes from the other room. Perhaps he picked up his jacket, cigarettes, and lighter and took off.

He didn’t intend to stay anyway.

His car is not even in front of the inn, and he seems to have no problemwith that.

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