Page 7 of War

A lump forms in my throat, making it hard to speak, but I force thewords out anyway. “They live in the building with us?” I knew the deal was too good to be true.

Sara shrugs. “Yeah, but they aren’t so bad.”

“Says the woman who has stacks of NDAs at the ready and has to catch all the puck bunnies on their way out of the building.” Hannah waves down the bartender to order another drink, totally unfazed.

Meanwhile my stomach roils with dread.

“That’s why the Langfields put us up there too. To keep tabs. Not that our presence deters them. But also to fill in the apartments they might otherwise lease to people not connected to Langfield Corp. The whole non-fraternization thing keeps the guys from sleeping with their neighbors.”

Sara tips her glass at Hannah. “I think that went out the window when Beckett married Liv.”

Hannah snorts. “You think we play by the same rules as Beckett Langfield?”

Sara lowers her chin a fraction, focusing on her drink while she shifts in her seat. Hmm. Curious. Maybe, like me, she’s found herself interested in someone in the building.

God.Interested in someone in the building. We flirted. He pinned me against the mirror. I may have fantasized about his lips touching mine, even while I defiantly told him I wasn’t that type of girl.

Then he asked me to meet him for dinner.

Here.

He asked me to meet him for dinner, and since I didn’t want to give him my number or tell him where I lived—I’ve watched enoughDatelinewith my sister to know better—I agreed to meet him at the bar at seven.

I glance down at my phone, and instantly, my heart sinks. The 7:45 blinks up at me innocently.

I’ve been stood up.

“Want to grab a table?” Sara asks, standing. “We can tell you all about the players and the guys we work with. Gotta make sure you know who to stay away from.”

Hannah slides off her chair. “Tyler Warren. Remember that name.The man is beautiful. All he has to do is look at you, and you’ll be pregnant, but he’s the biggest player on the team.”

My stomach knots painfully in response, but I force a smile to my face. Looks like I dodged a bullet. And I made friends. So although I’ve been stood up for what should have been my first date ever, I suppose I can chalk tonight up to a win.

War

“Did you have a date?” Brayden surveys me over the bowl of pasta I push toward him.

This isn’t the first time he’s asked, but now that the clock reads 7:45, I can guarantee Ava thinks I’m a supreme dickhead.

“You trying to tell me I look pretty?” I bat my lashes. As I dig into my own pasta, I do my best to ignore the ball of lead in my stomach. It’s impossible, though, as I picture Ava sitting by herself, waiting for me.

It only now occurs to me to call the bar. Fuck, why didn’t I think of that to begin with?

“You even smell like you had a date.”

Despite how shitty I feel, I shoot him a grin. “You really are buttering me up. I already told you that you can stay here tonight. No need to work so hard.”

With a roll of his eyes, Brayden shakes his head.

He never smiles, so I do it enough for the both of us. Kids should smile. They should also have a warm place to sleep and the love of a person who cares enough to make sure they’re fed.

These aren’t negotiable terms, and it enrages me that this kid doesn’t have any of it.

“I’ll be right back.” I stand, phone in hand, and stalk to my bedroom. First I text Trisha for the fifth time in the last hour, telling her I’ve fed her kid and that he’s staying with me for the night. Then I callthe restaurant and inquire about Ava. The bartender assures me that she made friends. Two women. Thank fuck. And that they’re now having dinner. I tell her to put their bill on my card and please send my apologies. I order the flaming chocolate for her, since that specific dessert is the reason I picked the restaurant for tonight.

Feeling a modicum better, I head back out to finish my dinner.

Later, I’m woken by the sound of banging. I jackknife to sitting from where I fell asleep on the couch, cursing and hoping the noise doesn’t wake up Brayden. He’s got school in the morning. He doesn’t need this shit.

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