Chapter One
“I know you love him.”
Seated in a little hole-in-the-wall diner known for its
messy, amazing burgers and cold, cheap beer, Lacey Morgan propped her head
against her upraised palm. She wasn’t in the mood for this.
She recognized the tone in Rocki’s voice. She already knew
where the conversation was headed and she really didn’t want to go down this road
again.
“Rocki. Don’t. Okay? Just don’t. I don’t want to do this
right now. Or…you know… ever .”
Her best friend just stared at her. Without saying a word.
Rocki wouldn’t let it go, not as easy as that. She was a
bulldog when it came to her friends.
Lacey sighed and leaned back in her seat. Could she get away
with ordering a drink at eleven in the morning? Lips pursed, she debated it,
but only for a minute. It was her day off. Why the hell not.
After she’d ordered a rum and Coke, she looked back at Rocki,
who continued to sit there, watching her with a patient look on her face. She’d
wait forever too, if she had to. Rocki was good about that sort of thing.
“Can’t you just let it go?” Lacey stared out the window, but
she wasn’t seeing the bright autumn sunshine filtering down through the trees,
she didn’t see the shoppers coming and going. No, she was remembering last
night. The entire scene was like a fist in her heart—no, a knife, straight
through the ribs and twisting around inside her, a perfect strike. It was a
wonder she was still breathing.
Why did she do this to herself?
Why did she let him do it?
“You know I can’t,” Rocki said, leaning forward and catching
Lacey’s hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody look more heartbroken than
you did last night. And that bastard doesn’t even see it. He won’t even look.”
“Brogan doesn’t want to see it.” She fell silent as the
waitress appeared with her drink and waited until the woman disappeared before
she closed her hands around it. The food she’d ordered sat untouched in front
of her. She knew she should eat, but she couldn’t.
“I can tell that.” Rocki leaned back, the cheap vinyl seats
squeaking beneath her. “Baby, why do you let him do this?”
Good question .
Staring into her drink, she wished she had some sort of
answer to give her best friend. But she couldn’t even explain it to herself.
In her mind’s eye, she saw him again. They’d been dancing,
although she had known something was already bothering him. She’d left to go to
the bathroom and when she came back, she’d seen him talking to Grace.
Five minutes later, he left with Grace and it had hit
her like a backhanded slap, that careless, thoughtless cruelty.
They weren’t exclusive although she’d damn well never tell
him she hadn’t been with anybody but him in well over a year. Still, they’d
made plans to meet there—he’d never once made plans with her and then
gone off with another woman.
The hurt and the humiliation had twisted inside her, dark
and awful and angry.
She didn’t know why he’d done it, but the why didn’t matter. He’d done it and she couldn’t get past it.
Shifting her gaze up, she stared at Rocki. Cole, Rocki’s
fiancé, wouldn’t ever do that to her… He’d never hurt his woman that way. But
Brogan hadn’t had any problems doing it.
And if it struck him to do it again, he would. Once Brogan
got an idea in his head, then he wasn’t going to deviate from it. She knew it
as well as she knew her own name. Brogan did pretty much whatever in the hell
Brogan wanted, and screw whomever it hurt. He’d even told her that…before.
He’s never done it to me, though. Not to me. Not like
this. Not like this. There had been little things, how he never let her
sleep at his place, how he kept her at a distance, but he’d never been…such an
ass before.
A soft sigh hitched in her throat and she groaned. I can’t
cry here. Not here.
“You can’t help that you love him,” Rocki said, gripping
Lacey’s hand in her
“I know you love him.”
Seated in a little hole-in-the-wall diner known for its
messy, amazing burgers and cold, cheap beer, Lacey Morgan propped her head
against her upraised palm. She wasn’t in the mood for this.
She recognized the tone in Rocki’s voice. She already knew
where the conversation was headed and she really didn’t want to go down this road
again.
“Rocki. Don’t. Okay? Just don’t. I don’t want to do this
right now. Or…you know… ever .”
Her best friend just stared at her. Without saying a word.
Rocki wouldn’t let it go, not as easy as that. She was a
bulldog when it came to her friends.
Lacey sighed and leaned back in her seat. Could she get away
with ordering a drink at eleven in the morning? Lips pursed, she debated it,
but only for a minute. It was her day off. Why the hell not.
After she’d ordered a rum and Coke, she looked back at Rocki,
who continued to sit there, watching her with a patient look on her face. She’d
wait forever too, if she had to. Rocki was good about that sort of thing.
“Can’t you just let it go?” Lacey stared out the window, but
she wasn’t seeing the bright autumn sunshine filtering down through the trees,
she didn’t see the shoppers coming and going. No, she was remembering last
night. The entire scene was like a fist in her heart—no, a knife, straight
through the ribs and twisting around inside her, a perfect strike. It was a
wonder she was still breathing.
Why did she do this to herself?
Why did she let him do it?
“You know I can’t,” Rocki said, leaning forward and catching
Lacey’s hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody look more heartbroken than
you did last night. And that bastard doesn’t even see it. He won’t even look.”
“Brogan doesn’t want to see it.” She fell silent as the
waitress appeared with her drink and waited until the woman disappeared before
she closed her hands around it. The food she’d ordered sat untouched in front
of her. She knew she should eat, but she couldn’t.
“I can tell that.” Rocki leaned back, the cheap vinyl seats
squeaking beneath her. “Baby, why do you let him do this?”
Good question .
Staring into her drink, she wished she had some sort of
answer to give her best friend. But she couldn’t even explain it to herself.
In her mind’s eye, she saw him again. They’d been dancing,
although she had known something was already bothering him. She’d left to go to
the bathroom and when she came back, she’d seen him talking to Grace.
Five minutes later, he left with Grace and it had hit
her like a backhanded slap, that careless, thoughtless cruelty.
They weren’t exclusive although she’d damn well never tell
him she hadn’t been with anybody but him in well over a year. Still, they’d
made plans to meet there—he’d never once made plans with her and then
gone off with another woman.
The hurt and the humiliation had twisted inside her, dark
and awful and angry.
She didn’t know why he’d done it, but the why didn’t matter. He’d done it and she couldn’t get past it.
Shifting her gaze up, she stared at Rocki. Cole, Rocki’s
fiancé, wouldn’t ever do that to her… He’d never hurt his woman that way. But
Brogan hadn’t had any problems doing it.
And if it struck him to do it again, he would. Once Brogan
got an idea in his head, then he wasn’t going to deviate from it. She knew it
as well as she knew her own name. Brogan did pretty much whatever in the hell
Brogan wanted, and screw whomever it hurt. He’d even told her that…before.
He’s never done it to me, though. Not to me. Not like
this. Not like this. There had been little things, how he never let her
sleep at his place, how he kept her at a distance, but he’d never been…such an
ass before.
A soft sigh hitched in her throat and she groaned. I can’t
cry here. Not here.
“You can’t help that you love him,” Rocki said, gripping
Lacey’s hand in her
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