Page 16 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

“You too.” I end the call and park my car in one of the furthest stalls from the entrance, leaving the rest for customers. I’m two hours early for my shift, but I couldn’t handle being in the same room with her anymore. I can’t even think of her name without a shot of adrenaline coursing its way through my system.

Maybe I really do need to get laid. Maybe it’ll help set the boundaries I need to get through this. The idea of playing house and following through with Reese’s suggestion is a bad idea.

Averybad idea.

* * *

Balancingthe pizza box in one hand, I shove open the front door and head down the short hallway to the kitchen. It’s empty. Curious, I set the cardboard box on the counter and head up the stairs near the front door. They creak under my weight as I take them one at a time, convinced I’m a giant pussy for actually following through with Reese’s suggestion earlier. But I couldn’t help it. They’ve been running through my head all day.

Em.

And my kid.

Em’s soft voice filters through the crack in her door as she tilts her head to one side, pinning her cell between her shoulder and ear while cradling Peanut to her bare chest.

She’s nursing.

“Uh, huh. Funny, Gibbs. Are you guys having a good time?”

I rock back on my heels, my chest tight.

Fucking Gibbs.

She still talks to him?

Sonny’s one of my best friends. He’s like a brother to me. But Em––Maddie––definitely put our friendship to the test. We’d shared plenty of girls before her. And it was fine. No drama. No feelings. Nothing more than a few solid orgasms and a good time we enjoyed repeating until one of us got bored and we decided to move on.

But she was different from the very beginning.

I met her when Sonny and I needed to pick up his half-brother, Fender, from his dealer’s house. I don’t touch drugs, thanks to my parents and my shitty upbringing. None of us do. However, Fender’s a loose cannon. He always has been. But he’s a good guy, and when he needs help, he knows he can rely on us.

If I’d known the shitstorm to come from the night we met, I might’ve left him to fend for himself.

When I close my eyes, I can still see her standing on the porch in a pair of barely-there shorts and a dark blue crop top showing off her toned stomach. Her smirk was sexy, confident as she held my gaze from the front lawn. When she gave the same smirk to Gibson as he climbed out of the car, I knew if I ever wanted a shot with her, I’d have to share.

So I did.

And for the first time, I hated it.

Because she was mine.

But only when Sonny wasn’t around.

And now, even after we have a fucking kid together, she still can’t leave him alone. She’s still talking to him. Chatting about her day. While I’m left on the sidelines with a damn pizza downstairs.

This is bullshit.

Sensing my presence from the doorway, Em looks over her shoulder and holds my gaze through the cracked door. Those same thick lashes frame her eyes as her pouty, red lips part.

“Hey, Gibbs? I gotta go.” Reaching for a giraffe blanket, she tosses it over Peanut’s face and her soft, round breast.

“Good talking to you too,” she returns. “Tell Dove to call me when she gets out of the shower.” She hangs up and gives me a tight smile. “Hey. You’re home early.”

“There a problem with me coming home early?” I push the door open the rest of the way and lean against the doorjamb. As if I have all the time in the world. As if my blood isn’t already boiling. As if I have no problem with Em still talking to my best friend even though I do.

“No,” she returns. “I’m…surprised. Don’t you usually work late on Thursdays? You used to.”

“Shocked you remember,” I note. “Tell me. Did you used to hook up with Gibson while I was working late?”

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