Page 38 of Crawl
“So you break into my house?”
“Not your house,” he says, locking his eyes with mine. “I was in the area, and I’m sure you’ve read the rental agreement. Owners can come into the house at any time.” He doesn’t budge, like he’s daring me to challenge him. I don’t know if he’s lying about the lease, but I know the real reason he’s here: he doesn’t like that I was unavailable.
“Everywhere in Key West is ‘in the area,’” I mock.
“Not necessarily.”
“How did you get in?”
“Spare key on top of the doorframe in the back.” He checks his cuff sleeves. “If you don’t like that the spare key is so obvious, then hide it better.”
I narrow my eyes. “Do you have a copy of the key at the estate?”
“Of course.”
This is the second time he’s shown up in my rental house without an invitation. It’s like he’s infiltrating my life.
But part of me is glad. Dean won’t hurt anyone to get what he wants, but sometimes, he’s so nice that he’s hard to push away. And after a while, I get so mad that I give in, because I want to connect to someone for a while, even if it is a disappointment. And I don’t want to do that anymore. I have Cash. I know what I deserve.
Still, that doesn’t give Cash any right to barge in like that.
“Why didn’t you knock?” I ask.
“I did. You were too focused on your ex.”
How does Cash know Dean is my ex? His lips press together, reading the questions in my mind, like he’s ready to hunt me until I surrender. Every muscle in his body tightens. It’s like he wants me to think that he’s amused by all of this, but it’s obvious that he’s not. He’s jealous.
“Why were you calling anyway?” I ask.
“You went to SAA?” he asks, completely disregarding my question. I run a hand through my hair, my fingers catching on the knots.
“How long were you listening?” I ask.
“Long enough.”
I exhale, the breath long and strained. I don’t want to have this conversation, but I don’t want to avoid it either. Iwantto tell him. Keeping my face forward, I sit down on my bed. Cash stays rooted against the wall, waiting for me to speak. If there’s anyone I can tell, it’s Cash. He’s twisted like me, and he won’t judge me.
Still, I don’t like the memories. They stir up a lot of unwanted emotions.
Will the truth finally scare him away?
But my instinct says that he’ll stay.
“What’s there to say?” I lift my shoulders like it’s nothing. “I thought I might be a sex addict.”
“Are you?”
“Not to sex.”
He clenches his jaw. It’s the only sign of emotion he gives, a hint of impatience as he waits for me to explain. I kind of like knowing that he’s capable of a reaction. That I can stir that in him.
“Then what are you addicted to?” he finally asks.
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
I check my phone. He has a digital appointment with a contractor in half an hour.
