Page 83 of Last Love

“Is all this a fucking game to you?”

Her eyebrows immediately dart down. “What?”

“Is staying clean something you actually plan on fucking doing or is it something you happen to be doing until you grow too bored with it?”

“I didn’t drug my fucking self last night, Collins.”

“No, but every time I fucking look away for thirty fucking seconds your ass is in some shit! Strip clubs-”

“It was Amy’s fucking birthday!”

“Night clubs-”

“My old sorority sisters wanted to go dancing!”

“Fucking MC patch parties.”

“I wanted to get fucking laid!”

“How about wanting to fucking stay sober, huh?!” I viciously bite. “How about wanting more in your goddamn life than the same bullshit that got your ass fucked up to begin with?!”

“So, what the fuck am I supposed to do?! Just give up fucking living!” She hisses back with just as much venom. “You want me to stay home every night and fucking knit or whittle or do fucking sudoku while waiting for someone – fucking hell, anyone – to call or text me back?!”

“I want you to get your shit together, Kara! I want you to stop cutting yourself and your hair and dying the shit weird colors and spending day in and out of every saloon between here and South fucking Haven getting nail jobs and feet jobs and lips job, fucking blowing your parents money rather than growing a pair of balls and deciding to go out and actually fucking do something with your life!”

“Not all of us are given fucking golden second chances, Collins!”

“Fuck you!” A finger is jabbed her direction. “I show up every goddamn day and earn this shit!”

All of sudden, the jingling of the front doorknob fills the apartment.

Assuming it’s McCoy coming home to grab the sleep he didn’t get at Jovi’s – which I wish I wasn’t sleeping too because of sex – I brace myself to explain the naked female on our couch.

The naked female who needs to put her clothes back on and probably eat a fucking bagel to help her blood sugar.

“Hi you!” Pres cheerfully greets me while wiggling her key out of the lock.

“Hey you…”

The instant she’s successful, she lifts up a box of pastries. “You left me a love note, so I figured I would bring you a love food.” Her beam brightens at the same time she adds. “They may or may not be zebra striped donuts.”

It’s impossible not to chuckle. “White chocolate and chocolate?”

“Um…what else would they be?” Her smile instantly drops at the sight of Kara. “And what is this I’m praying is a lack of breakfast induced hallucination?”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

This is so much worse than had she heard her in the car.

I stand to my feet with a pleading hand stretched out. “I swear to God, baby, it’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh good.” Pres clutches the box in her possession tighter. “Because it looks like you’re in your underwear with sex hair and that there’s a half-naked-”

“Fully naked,” Kara corrects with a devious smirk.

“-freshly fucked woman on your couch.”

“Pres-”

“Is this why you didn’t answer my call last night?”

It is.

But I can’t say that shit without everything getting even fucking worse.

“Is this why you didn’t fucking call me when you got home?”

Again.

I need more time to properly frame my answer.

“Is this,” she tosses the box the direction of Kara, “what you were fucking doing while I was in a fucking training seminar?!”

“Pres-”

“No.” Her vicious bite stops me from moving closer. “I’m going to work, which is apparently where my ass should’ve gone in the first place, and you’re going to do whatever the fuck it is you were doing with her and at some other time when I’m not hangry and horny and haven’t had my hopes for a happy start to my fucking day shat on, maybe we can discuss what the fuck happened here or why the fuck you lied to me-”

“I didn’t fucking lie to you!”

“-or why we’re fucking done if you cheated like my brain is saying you did in spite of my soul screaming you wouldn’t.”

“Pres-”

“Enjoy your day, Collins.”

The term.

The bitter expression.

The sassy exit.

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