Page 55 of GAF Factor

“He was just checking in.”

“Checking in?”

“Yes. He literally texts me once a week and asks me how I’m doing. He just wants to make sure I’m okay. You should have seen it before. He was texting me every two days. But I think he realized that was too much,” I chuckled.

Clearly, I was the only one who found that funny. IKE was positively fuming. “He shouldn’t be texting you at all. You said it was over.”

“It is.”

“Then why the fuck is he texting you?”

My jaw dropped. I really didn’t have an answer for him. Not a good one, anyway. I could see his point, why he was so pissed about this. If the situation was reversed, I would be angry too.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“No, I’ll talk to him.”

Okay, that was taking things too far. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. “IKE, don’t make me kick your ass.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I totally would, but how pathetic would it be to bring you to the hospital on Christmas Day and tell everyone that you got your ass handed to you by a girl?”

Tension bracketed his jaw, but the smallest little twitch touched the corner of his lips. I had him.

“I’ll talk to Kavanaugh about it. I’m sorry. I didn’t really think anything of it, but you’re right. We shouldn’t be texting.”

He huffed in annoyance.

“What now?” I sighed.

“Nothing.”

I walked over to him and slid my hands up his chest. “Tell me what it is.”

He sighed heavily. “I just…don’t get to kick his ass now.”

“You poor baby. I’m sure I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer as a low growl left his lips. “You’d better. It’s bad enough I had to share you this morning with your sister. Now I have to deal with your ex.”

“Only because when I broke things off with him, he promised he would still check in. And after I lost it on him in town?—”

“When was this?” he asked, going still.

I bit my lip to keep from smiling. “About a month ago.”

“And what happened?”

“Riley dragged me out into the cold and we sort of started a fight in the middle of a Christmas craft thing.”

“A Christmas craft thing,” he repeated, holding back his smirk.

“Yes, that’s exactly what it was. Did you want to hear the story or continue to mock me?”

He pretended to think about it, so I pulled away, but he immediately tugged me back into his arms, refusing to let me go. “I’m listening.”

I let out a huff of annoyance even though I wasn’t mad. “Anyway, after Riley was attacked by Bowie’s ex-wife and we took down a tent, the police wouldn’t let us go unless someone vouched for us.”

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