The Punk and the Plaything (When Rivals Play #3) - B.B. Reid Page 0,139

say if he was an evil man or simply mischievous. Good morals and bad intentions aren’t always mutually exclusive. I should know.

“I’m impressed, Jameson.”

“And what a waste of your time since I don’t give a fuck.” I started past him toward the bank of elevators when I stopped and spun around. They were both watching me. “Either you two tell Ever everything and let him hate you for a little while, or I tell him, and he hates you forever.”

I didn’t stop this time when I turned to leave. The moment I stepped onto the busy New York street, I reached inside my vest and removed the carton that had been burning a hole in my pocket all day.

When was my last smoke?

I couldn’t recall. I just knew I couldn’t go another minute without one.

I could always quit again tomorrow.

When I flipped open the top, my brows dipped at the slip of paper I found inside. Every single of my little sticks of heaven were gone. Plucking the paper from the pack, I unfolded it and found a note. Or rather…

My heart skipped a beat.

All I ever wanted was to pick wildflowers with you

To swim in the ocean, to run in the sun

To write fumbling poetry while you strung your clumsy notes

Being bad was the only thing we were good at

All I ever wanted…

I frowned even harder.

What? What was it that she wanted?

I practically snatched my car keys from the valet before racing home to find out. My heart pounded as my mind raced. There was nothing I wasn’t willing to do for her, but what if what she wanted most was for me to let her go?

Damn you, Bee.

“Jameson, a word?”

I sighed, staring at the stairs longingly. Bee was up there, and I knew she was waiting for me. However, I also knew my mother wasn’t about to let me blow her off. For the last two weeks, I’d been either missing in action or blowing off my family. My mom would be heading back to Ireland soon, and we’d hardly spent any time together after not seeing each other for a year.

“What’s up?”

“I’d like to know what you and Barbette think you’re doing? She’s been staying here for almost a week.”

I frowned, not expecting that. “Is that a problem? I didn’t know you had an issue with her.”

“Did I say that?” my mother snapped as she propped her hands on her hips. “I love Barbette—you know that—and she’s more than welcome here, but that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to move her in without an explanation.”

I scrubbed a hand down my face. My mother was right, but I didn’t know how much I should reveal to her. “Barbette isn’t… safe… at home. Her father was abusing her,” I said, telling only part of the truth. “I saw him slap her with my own eyes at graduation. That’s why we missed the ceremony.”

I realized only part of the truth worked fine when I watched my mother’s hand cover her trembling lips. Or maybe the reality Barbette had been forced to live in was so horrid it could only be handled in small doses. It was a testament to how strong Bee was even if she couldn’t see it yet.

“Is she okay?”

I nodded, even though I wasn’t entirely sure. Barbette had risked everything so that we could be together when it would have been easier just to run. And how did I thank her? By ignoring her for three days.

God, I’m such an asshole.

“What is she going to do?”

I shrugged, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. I hadn’t bothered to talk to her about that, either. Barbette was once again in control of her life, and I’d been too angry to ask her what she planned to do with it.

My mother gave me a reproachful look. “It sounds to me like the two of you need to spend a little less time in each other’s pants and a little more time talking. I hope you’re using condoms.”

After I assured her that I was, she ordered me upstairs but not before demanding to be kept up to date. My mother just loved reminding me that while I may be legally an adult, I was still her child.

The first thing I noticed when I stepped inside my bedroom was the clean floor. My clothes no longer covered the plush carpet, and I looked around, wondering where they could have gone. My desk had also been cleaned off and organized, the ashes