Page 46 of Tameron

Nash gave me a slap to the back of my head. He barely touched me, probably out of consideration for my hearing aids, but I still felt like he’d full-on smacked me. “Dayton doesn’t bitch, which, by the way, is a derogatory and sexist term you should stop using. It implies it’s something women do.”

I considered that. Hmm, he might have a point, actually. Not something I’d ever thought about, but now that I had, it kinda rang true. “Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“I agree it’s not a good term to use. I still maintain that Dayton shouldn’t have come to you.”

“He didn’t, dipshit. I had to practically drag it out of him since he was moping about something, and he finally told me he thought he’d done something wrong since you’d gone incommunicado on his ass. A rather spectacular ass, I might add, as we both know. So what gives?”

Nash sat on the coffee table, close enough so I’d have no issues hearing him…or reading his lips where needed. There went that excuse. “I’ve been…thinking.”

“Something you do way too much of.”

“I needed some time to figure things out.”

When I didn’t say anything else, Nash made an impatient gesture. “About what? Don’t make me force you to tell me because we both know I will if I have to.”

Oh yes, he would. Nash wouldn’t hesitate to use any and all methods at his disposal. Bribery, blackmail, beating your ass—he didn’t care as long as he got what he wanted. I’d seen alligators with a less tenacious bite.

“What did Dayton tell you?” I finally asked.

“Nothing, other than that he thought he might’ve done something wrong. No details. He refused to tell me more, stating it wasn’t his story to share.”

Fuck, that was considerate of him. Like, really nice. And once again, I was the asshole. With a deep sigh, I resigned myself to the inevitable. “We kissed. Dayton and I, I mean.” Nash gave me an eye roll that said, “Who else, dickhead?” Fair point again. “And we did…some more. Hand jobs,” I added quickly when Nash’s eyes narrowed. “We exchanged hand jobs. It was…good. Really good.”

“And then you ghosted him?”

“I didn’t ghost him. Did he say I ghosted him? Because I didn’t. I texted him back when he sent me pics of Knives. That’s not ghosting.”

Nash buried his head in his hands for a moment, letting out a loud groan. Looking up again, he said, “I can’t tell if you’re really this obtuse or if you’re fucking with me.”

I frowned. What the fuck did that mean? “Obtuse?”

“Dim-witted. Slow. Oblivious.” Nash apparently saw something on my face because he sighed again. “Christ Almighty, you’re serious. Okay, let me back up. Do you agree there’s a difference in how you communicated with him before you guys hooked up and after?”

Hooked up? Exchanging hand jobs was considered a hookup? Hmm, come to think of it, it was. With women, it most often involved sex. Penetrative sex—though that was about the least sexy term ever. Sure, oral could be involved, but nine out of ten times, it was a quick fuck. That was a little more complicated with two guys, so yeah, hand jobs made sense. Or blowjobs. Fuck, how would it feel to have Dayton blow me? Or to have his cock in my mouth? My cock jumped to half-mast at the thought.

Nash cleared his throat. Shit, right, he’d asked me a question. My cheeks heated as I realized the truth. Of course there was a difference. “I pulled away,” I said softly. “I answered his texts, but nothing more.”

Nash nodded. “You made Dayton think he did something wrong, and he’s hurting over it.”

I swallowed. “I didn’t mean to. I just…I needed time to figure out my own shit.”

“Okay, fair, but you could’ve told him that. Instead, you left him to come to his own conclusions, and guess what? They’re not positive. He thinks he fucked up.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way. “I didn’t mean to give that impression.”

Nash’s expression softened. “I know you didn’t, but you get into your head so much sometimes that you forget others areinvolved too. People who want to know what’s going on, who want to help you. All you need to do is ask.”

I hung my head, feeling very small. “I suck at asking for help.”

“You do, and I’m not sure why. Do you see it as a sign of weakness? Of failing?”

My shoulders hunched even lower. “I hate being dependent on someone else. I want to do it myself.”

Nash waited long enough to reply that I raised my head again and met his eyes, endlessly kind now. “Stubborn. That’s what you are. Goddamn stubborn. But I get it. I’m not much better myself, so it would be hypocritical of me to get on your case about it. But please, Tameron, try to remember that you have people around you who want to help you…and Dayton is one of them. For reasons I can’t quite fathom, he has a soft spot for you, so don’t shut him out. My guess is he’ll understand far more than you give him credit for, given a chance.”

I slowly nodded. “I’ll try.”

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