Blitz (Blast Brothers #3) - Sabrina Stark Page 0,103

messed up that I spent hours pacing my hotel room and raiding the mini bar until I was having a hard time seeing straight.

The next morning, I woke feeling like shit, even more so when I checked the usual news sites and saw pictures of me and Mina standing near the kiddie rides, looking tense and unhappy.

Probably, they'd caught us in mid-breakup, but this wasn't the worst of it. The real kick came when I saw the other pictures – the ones of Mina climbing into a red sports car belonging to a guy identified as Bryce Foster.

I also came across a few shots of Bryce loading up suitcases – her suitcases, the same ones I'd loaded into my car on Friday morning.

Now that was a kick to the gut.

But hey, it was her loss, right?

Chapter 70

Chase

From my open condo doorway, I eyed the plate of cookies that Brody held out in front of him. "What the hell are those?"

"Cookies," he said. "What do they look like?"

They looked like oatmeal chocolate chip, homemade too. Brody's fiancée made the best cookies of anyone I knew, but that didn't mean I was hungry for them.

Just to be a dick, I said, "So, did you make them or what?"

He laughed. "Yeah, right. So, are you gonna let me in?"

I gave him a look. "Since when do you need permission?"

He gave me a look right back. "Since you're standing in my way."

Yeah, I was. And I was in no mood to move. It had been four days since Mina had dumped me at the Buckville Fairgrounds, and they'd been four of the longest days of my life.

I hadn't seen her or talked to her since.

I hadn't seen any new pictures of her either, which was a damned good thing, because the last pictures had nearly sent me over the edge.

Brody said, "You're still in my way."

"I know."

"And you look like shit."

Like that was news. "Yeah, so?"

When I still made no move to step aside, Brody shouldered his way past me and strode toward the kitchen. "Where's your coffee?" he said. "It looks like you need it."

It was seven o'clock at night, and I wasn't in the mood for coffee – or anything else alcohol-free. Still, I trudged after him anyway, wondering what the hell he wanted.

I told him, "If you want coffee, go ahead. I'll grab something else."

He turned and eyed me up and down. "Looks to me like you've had plenty of something else already."

I said it again. "Yeah, so?"

He set the plate of cookies on the counter. "Those are from Arden, by the way. Cami, too. And just so you know, they both wanted to come with me."

No way. This was the last thing I needed, and I told him so.

When I finished, he said, "Yeah, but they're worried about you."

I forced a laugh. "Why?"

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

I had. And okay, so I wasn't looking my best. But hey, I couldn’t look like a god all the time, could I?

When I made no reply, Brody asked, "So, have you talked to her?"

"Talked to who?"

He gave me another look, one that said, "You're not fooling, anyone, you know."

He was wrong.

I was fooling myself. Or at least, I was trying to.

For the past four days, I'd been working like hell to reclaim my mojo, to shrug off the memory of Mina like I might shrug off a sweaty shirt at the gym. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to do it.

When I closed my eyes, I saw her face. In my dreams, I heard her voice. And when I thought of her with another guy – well, let's just say I didn't like it.

In my kitchen, Brody said, "The guy's married, you know."

I did know.

Like a lovestruck puppy, I'd actually troubled myself to learn a little something about Bryce Foster. The guy was completing his residency at a regional hospital maybe twenty minutes south of Buckville. He'd been married for two years now.

If I were the type to feel sorry for someone, I might feel sorry for his wife. But the truth was, I was feeling too sorry for myself to care about some chick I didn't know who'd married the wrong guy.

To Brody, I said, "Yeah, well, the guy's a cheater. What do you expect?"

"And Mina?"

I shrugged. "And she likes cheaters. So what?"

He gave me a long serious look before saying, "You're so full of it."

When I replied with only another shrug, he asked, "So, did