Mission: Without a Trace - Nicole Edwards Page 0,40
nothing had happened. After all, she had talked to him last night and he hadn’t bothered to mention he’d brought his slutty assistant to Moonshiners and gotten into an altercation with Brantley. No, he had conveniently left that part out.
The bastard.
Grabbing her phone, JJ resumed her pacing, tried to relax her shoulders and breathe. She couldn’t call him in this state; it wouldn’t do any good. She needed to calm down.
In the grand scheme of things, Dante didn’t matter to her. She had known all along that this thing between them wasn’t going anywhere. He was a means of passing the time. Her in-between. JJ had always figured she could use him until she found someone better. After all, that was what he was doing to her.
However, she was not going to fuck him while he was parading other women around. If he wanted to be discreet, more power to him.
But he’d fucked up by trying to make this serious between them.
Finally calm enough to dial, she pulled up Dante’s contact information, hit the button to place the call.
“Hey,” he greeted.
It was then she realized he was hesitant, the same as he’d been last night when he called. Dante wasn’t sure if she knew and he was preparing for her wrath.
The dickhead.
“Is there somethin’ you wanna tell me?” she asked by way of greeting.
“I’m sorry.”
Great, now he had that haughty air he took on when he knew she was upset.
“It’s been brought to my attention you’re spendin’ quite a bit of time with your new assistant.”
“Who told you that?”
“Come on, Dante. Don’t be a douche. You brought her to Coyote Ridge. Surely you expected me to find out. Otherwise, why bring her here? You’ve got no business in Coyote Ridge.”
Then it hit her.
He had hoped she would find out. It had been his plan all along. She was his in-between.
“Oh, my God, Dante. You are such a fuckin’ dick. Seriously? Where the fuck are your balls?” JJ seethed. “Are they in her goddamn purse? You couldn’t just text me to say you’ve changed your mind? That this assistant was the love of your life?”
“JJ—”
“No, fuck you. I’m done, Dante. Go fuck your assistant. I don’t care. I’ve never cared. You’re the one who wants this to be somethin’ it’s not.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“And that’s a load of bullshit. We both know it. That’s exactly what you meant to do. You want me to hurt, Dante.”
“Fine,” he hissed. “You’re right. I do. I want you to act like you give a damn, JJ. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“And what better way to do it than to flaunt all your women in my face. You’re tryin’ to make me jealous.”
“Did it work?”
JJ stopped pacing, stared up at the blinds on her window. “No, Dante. It doesn’t make me jealous.”
And that much was true. It pissed her off that he could disrespect her that way, but beneath it all, JJ simply didn’t care about Dante the way he wanted her to. She wished she could love him because he was familiar to her, he was a security from her past, but she didn’t love him.
“I didn’t think so.”
“We’re done, Dante,” she said, her voice level once more. “Don’t call me for a date, don’t hit me up for a hookup. Don’t ask me to help with a job. It’s over between us.”
“What about friends?”
“No.” JJ shook her head although he couldn’t see her. “No, I don’t think we can be friends, either. My friends wouldn’t disrespect me like this.”
“JJ, I’m sorry.”
“Save it,” she said easily, then disconnected the call.
JJ figured she should’ve still been upset about it all. Oddly enough, it actually felt as though a weight had been lifted. She didn’t love Dante, doubted she ever had. Granted, her safety net was now gone, but was that really a problem?
Perhaps she could find the answer in a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.
***
Reese was up hours early for work on Tuesday.
Rather than go straight over to Brantley’s and risk running into the man, he sat on his couch in the dark, staring at nothing. He didn’t get up to get coffee, to take a leak, to shower. He simply sat there, his head pounding because he couldn’t fucking sleep, he couldn’t fucking eat. His heart actually ached—which he knew wasn’t even possible—and it was all his own damn fault.
He was an idiot.
On a positive note, this was the first time in his thirty years that he’d felt true heartbreak.