THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,169

functional relationship, Steve. For someone who claims to be so well-adjusted, you’re really screwed up.”

I pride myself on being one of the guys that don’t have any demons. My parents are still married, I was never forced into sexual slavery as a child, wasn’t kidnapped, whipped, sliced, or emotionally or mentally tortured…I’ve never used alcohol and drugs as a crutch. I grew up in the south where I played varsity sports and the whole town knew my name. There’s no skeletons in my closet. I am a well-adjusted asshole, thank you very much.

Eyes wide, I respond, “Well then, it’s been real, Cass. This is definitely goodbye. Thank you for everything. Despite your assumptions I did enjoy our time together.” Ignoring her jab at my non-relationships, I focus on what I want the outcome of this conversation to be. “I care for you. I always will. But I can’t give you anything else. I never could. I never wanted to.”

“Ouch. Way to let a girl down easy. Let me ask you one question.”

Standing, I walk toward the locker room—the lights in the warehouse turning off in large sections one block at a time. I put the phone on speaker and change clothes quickly.

“Shoot,” I say, knowing she’ll ask anyways.

Less tearful and more angrily she asks, “How long are you going to lie to yourself about the real reason you don’t let women in?” Now I’m getting pissed off, but as if on queue, my call waiting chimes. It’s Morganna.

“You’re confused, Cass. I think you mean the other way around…I’m in women all the time.” She silences and the phone line goes dead. Taking a deep breath, I tap the button to switch to Morganna’s call. My fucking head hurts.

“I thought you would be here when I got home!” she snaps out, her voice sharp with a hint of humor. No greeting——straight to business. Closing my eyes, I shake my head. Morg isn’t giving me mixed signals, per se…she’s doing the same thing she’s always done after Stone’s death. But now it feels different. Because my girlfriend is calling me out. And because maybe she was giving me mixed signals earlier.

Smiling, I tease, “Someone needs to sew you up? The axe murderer got you good?” I know exactly how screwed up it is. How I can be there for Morganna whenever she calls and yet I can’t offer a normal relationship to another very worthy woman? It may be fucked up, but nothing makes me feel this good. I don’t have to worry about feelings, or the future. We just are. We understand each other without trying.

Morganna laughs as a response, the musical sound quieting my rapid-fire thoughts. “I’m on my way now. Get sex details ready,” I order. Saying goodbye to Sloane and a few other guys, I exit the gym and find my truck. And then I drive as quickly as possible to the only place I want to be.

CHAPTER FOUR

Morganna

Past

“YOU KNOW I’M going to be the last person you date, right?” Stone asks. Actually he doesn’t ask—he tells me. I let him think I think he has the upper hand. We’re both bull noses—not opposites in the least. Surprisingly, it works for us. Polar opposites of a magnet, we repel each other with all of our might, but then with a flip we’re sealed perfectly together. Matched.

I scoff at his question. “That’s making a very large assumption, Mr. Sterns. I don’t think you’re taking all possible date factors into account. Some girls like romance,” I explain, gaze piercing his. He never breaks eye contact first.

He flashes a bright, white grin. A grin that always affects me.

“I mean, typically wining and dining are at the top of most girl’s lists. Perhaps even a walk on the beach. Not a teeth-gritting boat ride that makes me wonder if gravity is ever your friend. I’ll give it to you, I did see the beach from your boat tonight. You are awarded one romance point for that.” He took me on a romantic speedboat ride, the jutting waves cascading over my silk, Italian blouse anytime he hit the wake just so. In other words, every other wave.

Don’t get me wrong, being able to ride in a boat year round in San Diego is preferable to the cold, rainy east coast where I’ve spent the bulk of my years. This was the sole reason I packed my bags and moved here. San Diego was supposed to be a quick stay-cation for a year or