Page 103 of Tangled Kisses
A pity project. A stinking karma point.
“Fucking Sabine,” Piper mutters under her breath, her fingers gripping the door frame. “You know how she is, Reese.”
The words lance through me like a blade between the ribs, and a jagged laugh bursts out of me. “Don’t blame this on Sabine. She didn’t come up with this plan.Youdid. And Griffin accepted. So don’t stand there acting like this is anybody else’s fault.”
My stomach lurches. Suddenly, every moment with Griffin feels staged. And worse, I can’t shake the thought that Sabine wasn’t the only one who heard them talking that day in the diner. That I’ve been walking around as some pathetic inside joke.
Piper’s poor, frigid big sister. Tangled Vines’ charity case.
And maybe that’s why Griffin never let me touch him. He figured I couldn’t get him off. Better to keep the control, better to keep the pity illusion intact.
Frigid. Too much work. Not worth it.
The words echo, cruel and familiar, in my mind.
What a performance, Mr. Topete. No wonder you’re the star attraction.
No surprise he’s suddenly busy for the next two days. No wonder Lauren appeared like a perfect little escape hatch. He probably couldn’t wait to crawl back into her bed and away from the sad disaster his friend’s sister dumped in his lap.
God, I was going to clear out my 401k for this son of a bitch. Move heaven and earth for him. And all of it—it was nothing. Just another job. Just another well-practiced act from a man who’s done it thousands of times.
I’m humiliated, seething, seconds away from either bursting into hysterics or ripping one of those damn cow horns off the wall and goring my sister right in the boob.
“Reese.” Piper’s voice cracks as she reaches for me. “Please calm down. I think the world of you. So does Griffin. Youmustknow that.”
I laugh, hollow and sharp, as tears sting my eyes. “The only thing I know, theonlything,” I grit out, my voice cracking, “is that you’d both better stay the fuck away from me.”
I yank Chowder out of her arms, hugging his warm, sleepy body to my chest like armor. “This is my cat. My life. And I want you to stay the fuck away from both.”
“Reese, please.” Piper follows me into the hallway, voice breaking. “At least let me call Griffin?—”
I whirl on her, the words exploding before I can stop them. “No! I don’t want to talk to either of you!”
Her face blanches, but I don’t stay long enough to see the rest. I storm away, Chowder digging his claws into my shirt like he’s had enough of all this bullshit.
In the sun porch, I set him down by his food. “Here you go, buddy.” He flicks his tail and trots off, disinterested, like he couldn’t care less about the mess I’ve made of my life. Lucky bastard.
My chest’s still heaving, rage pumping hot and restless through my veins. I can’t sit still, so I march down to the gym and throw on a pair of gloves. The punching bag looms in front of me, silent and solid. Perfect target.
I swing hard, the crack of my knuckles reverberating up my arm, and pain blooms instantly across my hand. “Damn it!” I ripthe glove off, flexing my fingers, hissing as fire lances through them. Great. Just great. Nothing like sitting in an ER with a broken hand because I let Griffin Topete get under my skin.
He’s not worth it.
Not the bruises. Not the tears. Definitely not the ER bill.
I drag myself back to my room, unlocking the door just as my phone buzzes with a bright and obnoxious reminder for tonight:Bachelorette Party, 7 PM.
Not just any bachelorette party, either, butmine.
A weekend away with women I considered friends to celebrate a life I thought I wanted.
Then, as if the universe wasn’t being petty enough, a text flashes on the screen.
From Vander.
I stare at my phone, trying to process the bevy of emotions swirling in my gut. His message is short and to the point, typical of the man I planned to marry, but there’s no mistaking its meaning.
Vander: This silence has gone on long enough. We need to talk.
