Dirty Thoughts - Megan Erickson Page 0,83
He was sure he looked like hell. Because he felt like hell.
She motioned toward the kitchen with her head. He dropped Asher’s bag on the floor, shut the door behind him, and followed her.
“What’re you doing here?” His voice was harsh from the stale air of the hospital.
She had a sponge in her hand and was scrubbing the sink. Scrubbing the sink?
“I’m cleaning.”
He leaned against the counter beside her and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re cleaning.”
“Yes. Why don’t you go take a shower? And maybe a nap?”
She was telling him what to do now? “How did you get in here?”
The look she shot him could freeze hell. “You gave me a key.” She said it slowly, like he was an idiot.
That didn’t explain what she was doing. “I don’t—”
She sighed, really heavily, like every muscle in her body hurt. “Cal, please. Just go take a shower and lie down. I’ll bring you some food.” She paused and bit her lip. “Then we’ll talk.”
He bristled. “Not sure—”
“We’re talking, Cal.” Still with that stern look. “Go. Wash. Your. Body.”
He huffed and turned on his heel sharply.
After making sure Asher was okay (he was) and that he didn’t need anything (he didn’t; Jenna had already given him water and food), Cal went upstairs.
He stripped on the way to the bathroom, leaving his clothes where they lay. He took a five-minute shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and then crawled into bed. He was out seconds after his head hit the pillow.
THE SOUND OF a clattering on his nightstand jolted him awake. The sun outside his window had begun to descend. “Shit.” He rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Six,” Jenna said from somewhere behind him. He heard a rustle of clothes and then the sound of them hitting the bottom of his hamper.
“I slept that long?” he asked.
“I didn’t wake you. Figured you needed the sleep. There’s a sandwich on the nightstand for you.”
He squinted at it. “Peanut butter and jelly?”
“Glass of milk is there too.”
It was. And this small talk was painful.
“Jenna . . . ”
The bed dipped beside him. “Asher’s been asleep for about an hour. Do we need to wake him?”
Cal shook his head and sat up, reaching for the plate. “Doctor said no. They don’t really do that anymore for concussions.”
Her hazel eyes blinked. “Okay.”
As he took a bite of the sandwich, he was acutely aware that he was wearing only a towel. And Jenna’s hand was right next to his naked thigh. “So . . . ”
“I quit.”
So there it was, the closure. The I can’t do this. The I can’t believe you punched my brother at my company party. The I don’t love you back. At this point, did he even want to dispute the facts? It would be so much easier to let her think he did it. To let her go.
“I can’t do this again.” Her eyes were on her fists clenched in his comforter. The peanut butter sandwich plastered to the roof of his mouth tasted like sawdust. “Last time was bad enough, but what happened this time was . . . way, way worse.”
Last time Dylan had stood in front of him, bleeding, they’d at least been in private.
“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely, dropping the half-eaten sandwich on his nightstand and gulping down milk.
“I’m sorry too,” Jenna said. “I mean, Dylan and I were never close, but now . . . well, I think I need to cut ties completely.”
Cal’s head shot up. “What?”
“Did he mean to hit his face on the bathroom door?” Jenna fidgeted with the ends of her ponytail. “Or was it an accident?”
Cal’s head was spinning. Did Dylan tell the truth? There was no way.
“Cal?”
“What’re you talking about?”
She frowned. “Dylan. He tried to say you punched him, but when I called him on the lie, he finally ’fessed up.”
Cal blinked. “You called him on it?”
Jenna was doing that thing again, where she was looking at him like he was an idiot. “I knew you wouldn’t hit him, Cal. Not—” Her eyes grew wide, impossibly wide, and then she shot to her feet and narrowed those eyes to slits. “Oh my God. You thought I believed Dylan, didn’t you?”
He couldn’t suck enough air in his lungs. “I . . . I . . . yeah. I did. What was I supposed to think? You stood there in the hallway with that fucking look of disappointment on your face.”
“Hell, yeah, I was disappointed, Cal! I couldn’t believe this