Chapter 16 (Landon)
“My head,” Kit whines from the other bed and I nod in agreement.
Breslin steps out of the bathroom and tosses a bottle of Tylenol to her. “Take some of these.”
I catch sight of her and suck in a breath. She's always so damn beautiful, but the dress she has on fits her like a glove and her hair is done up in a way that exposes the long line of her neck, which has me longing to sweep my mouth across it.
“You look nice.” I shake my head. “Actually, that’s wrong. You look stunning.”
She blushes and reaches for her purse. “Thanks. I have a job interview at the coffee shop today.”
“The one we worked at before we left for Europe?” Kit asks in confusion.
Breslin nods, looking mildly annoyed. “Yup. When I spoke to Larry, he said my position was filled but that if I came in and interviewed again he'd see what he could do.”
“That bastard,” Kit grunts and Breslin rolls her eyes.
“I left for Europe with two days’ notice, Kit. He has every right to not hire me back.”
“Us,” Kit says, determination in her eyes.
Breslin's eyes open wide. “Oh, no.” When Kit frowns she groans, “Come on, Kit, you hated that job.”
I stifle a laugh. God knows Kit isn't exactly employee of the year and usually was more of a hassle to work with than a blessing. I don't blame Breslin for trying to talk her out of it.
Kit stands up and opens a drawer. “Well, I need something to do now that I have all this free time.”
Breslin shoves a t-shirt and jeans into her bag. “He's probably going to want me to start today.”
“Us,” Kit corrects.
Breslin rubs her temples. “I'm leaving in five minutes.”
Kit runs into the bathroom like a bolt of lightning and we hear the faucet turn on a moment later.
I throw the covers off me, get up off the bed, and stretch. “Why don't you just tell her that you hate working with her?”
She looks down. “I would, but after what Becca did to her I don't have the heart to.”
Yeah, I guess she has a point.
I walk over to her and grasp her jaw in my hand. “Kit aside, how are you feeling?” She tries to look away but I don't let her.
“Better,” she finally says.
I drop a kiss to her forehead. “What time do you think you'll get off?”
My palms start to sweat and my heart rate speeds up. For a moment, I reconsider what I'm doing—but after last night...I know I can't.
This is the only way to fix everything. I know it. I feel it.
“Provided I manage to get my job back? Not too late. Around 8:00 or so.” She looks at me skeptically. “Why?”
There's no going back now. “Come by my apartment later tonight.” I inhale a breath. “This way we can talk.”
“Okay.” Her voice shakes and I plant a kiss to the crook of her neck. “Trust me, it's—”
“Damn, Landon. I had no idea you had so many tattoos. That's some nice ink work,” Kit says, giving me a once over.
“Thanks. I know a guy downtown. I can introduce you if you want. I actually plan on getting more work done soon.”
Kit's eyes gleam but Breslin points to the door. “Come on, Kit. Before we spend all day at a tattoo parlor instead of being responsible adults.” She looks at me. “Lock up before you leave?”
When I give her a nod, she smiles. “I'll see you later.”
I return her smile and get dressed. I let out a laugh when I hear Kit talk about getting 'Becca is a stupid whore' tattooed across her back and Breslin trying to talk her out of it before she closes the door behind her.
A few minutes later, I walk out and come face to face with a very worried looking Asher who's typing away furiously on his phone.
I walk over to him, thankful the hallways are empty and that no one saw me slip out of Breslin's dorm. “What's wrong?”
“Preston still hasn't called me back.” He blows out a breath. “I figured he'd get back to me after practice, but no dice.” He visibly swallows. “He's on a bender. I know he is.”
“Not to come off like a jerk, but he's 19. He's not even old enough to gamble at most casinos. How bad of a bender can it be?”
“You'd be surprised,” Asher mutters. “All he has to do is drop our father's name and people's eyes light up with dollar signs and they let him in.”
“Shit.”
He slides his phone back in his pocket. “I have to go look for him, before my father looks at his accounts and goes fucking ballistic.” He starts to walk away but I grab his arm. “You don't have a car. Let me go with you.”
“Don't you have better things to do with your time than help me fix my shit?”
I take a step forward and slip my hand around his neck, pulling him close, because just like Breslin needs to understand; so does he.
“How many times do I have to tell you that you're not alone, Asher? I'm here.”