Last Kiss by Laurelin Paige Page A

which helps. I figure I have an hour or two before I start spiraling downward.”
    She looked pointedly at Reeve’s wine as she picked up her water. “I definitely think I’m ready to not need babysitting anymore.”
    I lowered my gaze again to my plate. The underlying discord between Reeve and Amber was palpable, and it shook me up. It would be easy to decide that the contention meant that their relationship was entirely in the past, but I was smarter than that. I understood intricacies of human relationships, specifically of Amber relationships and even Reeve relationships. She wouldn’t be holding on to hostility if she didn’t still feel something.
    And Reeve wouldn’t be monitoring her beverage consumption if he didn’t care as well.
    Oh, God, how I didn’t want him to care!
    I loathed myself for that wish. Of course he should care. His concern didn’t have to mean anything about me. But rationale doesn’t work on emotion, and instead of understanding his compassion, I felt bitter and raw.
    “Alcohol is not recommended with methadone or addiction recovery,” Reeve said dispassionately. “If you want it, you’ll have to find someone else to provide it.” She opened her mouth to interject, but he didn’t let her. “And the people taking shifts with you are not babysitters. They’re there to help you.”
    Here, she dug in her heels. “I don’t need them.”
    “But if you found that —”
    “I don’t need them and I’d prefer to not have them.” Her voice lowered. “If I have any say in it.” I didn’t miss her innuendo, the insinuation that his care now wasn’t unlike the time she’d spent here as his captive.
    She’d hit him below the belt. He’d told me that had been the worst of him, that “keeping” her had been the worst thing he’d done.
    I saw the struggle within him. Felt it, even. He hated to lose, and, wanting to show him I understood, I lowered my hand to cover his on my thigh.
    But he pulled his hand away. Meeting her eyes, he set down the reins. “If that’s what you’d prefer.”
    “It is.” She beamed triumphantly. Then, looking down at her plate for the first time, she said, “Meat and potatoes. Of course.” Her disdain was evident.
    To my left, Joe’s leg bounced up and down nervously. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who felt the tension. I wondered if my unease was as obvious as his.
    “The asparagus is perfect,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
    As though I hadn’t spoken, Reeve said tersely, “The potatoes were for you, Amber. Jeb said soft and bland for your diet. If you prefer, I can have some soup brought up.”
    “Potatoes are fine. Thanks.” She said it as if this were her concession. She refused to be hovered over, but she’d allow him to choose her menu.
    I imagined it was the way they’d been when they were together – constantly butting heads while she fought for her independence and he demanded the right to attend to her needs. That had always been the difference between her and I – she saw that sort of attention as stifling where as I’d found submission to be freeing.
    But maybe Reeve enjoyed the challenge. Maybe I was too easily subdued. Wouldn’t it be more of a victory to top someone who refused to be topped?
    I finished off my wine and signaled for the server to bring me another glass.
My
alcohol content wasn’t being monitored, thank goodness. Maybe if I had enough of it, I could drown the twin beasts of envy and insecurity that lived inside me, or, at least, lull them both to sleep.
    We fell into a silence that was not at all comfortable but a hundred times preferable to the conversation that had taken place. Amber picked at her food, ignoring the steak altogether and barely making a dent in her potatoes.
    Eventually, she sat back in her chair and sighed as she looked out through the deck railings to the ground below. “You got a dog?”
    I followed her line of vision to see the scraggly black Lab that I’d seen around