Page 111 of Never Stop
Pissed.
Angry.
Livid.
Furious.
“Are you mad at me?” Cheyenne asked after a few minutes of us driving in silence.
“No.”
“Then why are you in a bad mood?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
I cut my eyes to her. “Not now, Peanut.”
“God!” she groaned, crossing her arms over her chest. “I was just asking.”
I let out a huge sigh. “I know. I’m sorry. Something happened today, and I’m not in a good mood.”
“Whatever,” she mumbled.
“What do you want for dinner?”
Her head quickly turned to me. “We’re going out?”
“No. We need to grab something and bring it home.”
“We never go out.” She frowned.
This was true. Either Brooke or I cooked because that was just what we did. Of course, there were times I took Cheyenne out for lunch or something, but most nights we ate at home.
“How about we go out this weekend? Tonight’s not a good night.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
I was really starting to hate that word.
We picked up a pizza, and when we walked in the house, Brooke was lying on the couch with a half-empty bottle of white wine on the coffee table. Her glass was empty, and her gaze was glued to the TV.
“Hey Brooke,” Cheyenne said.
“Hey, sweets. How was practice?” Brooke asked as she sat up.
Cheyenne shrugged. “It was okay. Nothing special. We got pizza.”
I slid the cardboard box on the table. “Go get plates,” I said to Cheyenne. She ran off toward the kitchen. “You okay?” I asked and bent down to kiss Brooke softly.
“As good as I’m going to get.”
“Wine helping?” I sat next to her and placed my hand on her knee. She leaned into me, and I wanted to take all her pain away.
She shrugged. “Couldn’t get wasted with Cheyenne here.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
