Spencer felt like a Grade A Asshole, breaking up with Trina over text message. And her single-word reply made it worse. He wanted to go over there or call her or something, for more of a response, but what did he expect?

It went smoothly. He should be grateful for that. Instead, he questioned ending things.

Wonderful. Now he was one of those guys who didn’t appreciate what they had until she was gone.

He spent the night skulking around his condo, and the black cloud lingered with him the next morning. Worse, he had to be on-site at the new building, which meant running into her.

Would she ignore him? That would suck, but all things considered, it’d be fair.

Would she flirt harder with her coworkers? That would piss him off in a way he didn’t have a right to be.

He dragged his feet and didn’t arrive until almost ten. Trina’s car wasn’t in the parking lot, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit he was looking.

He was mostly here to check in on the security cameras. Over the next couple of days, he’d check the footage they recorded and see if any spots in the building needed fixing.

Spencer didn’t see Trina on his walkthrough either. When he got back to the main floor, he grabbed Cody’s attention.

“Are you down a tech today?” Spencer asked.

Cody wouldn’t meet his gaze. “We had to let Trina Hough go.”

Concern wormed its way through Spencer. “Why? She’s a good fucking tech.”

“There are some things we have a zero-tolerance policy for. It’s not my place to tell you how to run your company, but we don’t allow certain types of relationships.”

“I see.” Spencer didn’t like the sinking feeling inside. “And you had evidence she was involved in one of these?”

Cody raised his eyebrows. “Sometimes rumors are enough. You didn’t help matters any.”

“Right.” Spencer clenched his hand into a fist. He excused himself back to his workspace, but he couldn’t get the conversation out of his head.

She lost her job. Partly because of him. And then he did what he did last night. The thoughts played on a loop, and by lunchtime he couldn’t sit still.

Fuck it. He had to talk to her. He headed to her apartment. On the drive, he rehearsed a million opening lines in his head. He couldn’t apologize for the breakup, despite the voice telling him he needed to. He could say sorry for the rest.

But most importantly, he was worried about her. No wonder she didn’t say much last night. Wasn’t in the mood to see him.

By the time he knocked on her door, he was seething with fury on her behalf. She answered and turned away before he could see her face.

“If you want to talk, you have to do it while I pack,” she said over her shoulder, as she walked into the kitchen.

He followed her. One box sat on the counter, and two more were in the corner. The walls and shelves in the living room were bare. “What’s going on? Are you all right?”

“It’s a company apartment, and I’m no longer with the company. And no, I’m not. But I assume I will be.” Her tone was eerily flat.

All of his considered conversation options evaporated, and the only thing he could do was be concerned. The way she hunched over the box but didn’t move... The fact she refused to look at him... The lack of emotion in her voice... He wanted to make it better and didn’t have the right. “Why didn’t you say something? About the job?”

Her shoulders rose and fell with her audible sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe because when I texted you I was still processing. Then you dumped me, and the last thing I wanted was your pity.”

“Is that why you think I’m here? Pity?”

She finally faced him. Her cheeks were red, and the area around her eyes was puffy. Regret and longing ached inside him.

“I don’t know why you’re here,” she said. “Pity. Obligation. To tell me, I hope we can still be friends, and to say it to my face so it’s harder for me to respond with, No. Fuck off?”

“I’m here because I was worried when I heard the news. And because I care.” That was easy enough to admit. He didn’t hold any ill will toward her because dating her didn’t work out.

She rubbed the back of her neck. “I’ll be all right. It hurts now, but I’ll get over it. I’ll beg Tristan for a job if I can’t find something else fast. Give him a break from the network stuff, and he’ll love the excuse to play big brother again.”

She was leaving. Not just moving out of the apartment, but out of state. The news hit him like a flat palm to the chest. “Or you could stay here and look for something new.”

“I don’t have enough money for that. They barely paid me enough to live off, and that was because I didn’t owe rent on this fucking apartment. I’m not begging my parents for money.”

They might not send it anyway. Her family was close, but her father believed his kids should earn their way into the world, without his wallet.

“Stay with me,” Spencer said before he could consider the offer. “Or at the beach house, and then you don’t have to run into me.”

“Awesome.” Sarcasm leaked into her voice. “There’s that pity.”

He gritted his teeth, not appreciating that she threw the suggestion back in his face. “You got a shit deal, and you don’t deserve to be punished for what happened.”

“When you weren’t.” She added to the end of his statement. “We broke the rules. This is my consequence. I’m trying so hard to be an adult about this. I got the raw end of things, but I still broke the rules.”

“You’re being difficult, and I’m trying to help.” And now the conversation was breaking down again. Like last time. And the time before.

Trina crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter. “Sorry about that.” She sounded anything but. “Would you rather I fall in line and kiss your feet for your kind offer?”

“That’s not what this is about, and I wish you wouldn’t twist my words like that.”

Her sigh made him think he wasn’t the only one counting to ten to keep their cool. “I need you to please understand where I’m coming from.” Her voice was thin.

“I’m trying. And you knock me down every time I make an effort.”

“Fine. I’ll try to explain this from my perspective. I worked with a group of guys who took every opportunity they could—and you think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not—to suggest I only had my job because I’d sucked the right dicks to get it.”

Spencer winced at the raw words, but he couldn’t contradict her.

“I went to HR. I didn’t want to, but the kind lady convinced me it would be all right. She’d handle things discreetly, she said. Make sure the entire complaint was anonymous. The next day—the very next fucking day—the one guy I didn’t report was gone, and I was working side by side with the ringleader. The one person I’d complained about. In a private setting, for the next several weeks.

“And your response—yes, I’m pointing fingers—was to tell me to stop letting them walk all over me. It made you jealous. I didn’t deserve it. Thanks for pointing that out. I didn’t realize before then that I deserved better.” Anger mingled with her sarcasm.

Spencer never meant it that way, but he didn’t have an argument as to why she should see things differently.

“And then,” she said, “when I was willing to step forward and say something, to help you, you pointed out that no one was going to take me seriously because I’m young and attractive. And when that offended me, you decided it was a good time to end our relationship. Because you decided that night, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” There was no point in lying about it. What was done was done.

“And then I got fired. Everyone else in this mess still has their jobs. But not me. And at the end of it all, the guy I was falling for dumped me, via text message, because he refuses to be walked on but can’t comprehend why I feel the same.”

“I never meant—”

“I know you didn’t. And I don’t want to take this out on you, because... because you’re you. But damn it, if your sympathy is about the least helpful thing in the entirety of my universe right now.”

He didn’t have a counter for any that. The confession she was falling for him ached on top of the rest of it. “I’m sorry. So you’re moving home.”

“I am.” Her fight was gone.

“If you ever need a reference...” He trailed off. In a way that started all of this.

Her laugh was tired and bitter. “No offense, but I won’t be calling you.”

“Right.” This was it, then. Actually over. There was an empty pit inside he was pretty sure didn’t even exist when he got divorced. It had been less than a month, and he felt like he was losing something important. He wanted to stay. Make things right. Make things work.

But he didn’t know if that was real, or an impulse because of the situation.

It’s real.

Even if that was true, he doubted she’d believe it. “I guess... goodbye,” he said.

“Goodbye.”

He swallowed all other impulses—for one last kiss or hug or handshake—and turned and walked out the front door.

*

TRINA WAS GLAD SPENCER didn’t try to make the relationship right. She was also disappointed, and it hurt like fuck. If he’d said, let’s make this work, she would have accepted without hesitation. She didn’t know if that was the right thing to do, though. If she’d be giving in to loneliness and the need to be held, over reason.

She threw herself into packing. There wasn’t a lot to do. She’d been here less than six months. The deep clean could occupy her for days, though. Scrubbing walls and tile, and vacuuming, all with the music turned up way too loud, mostly kept her from thinking.

She pushed herself each day until she was so exhausted her brain didn’t work, and then collapsed until her thoughts and doubts woke her up, and she started the cycle again.

When Tristan called on Saturday, she was grateful for the excuse to climb out of her head. She tossed her rag aside, yanked off her rubber glove, and answered with a cheerful, “Hello.”

“Hey, stranger. You busy?”

“Nope. What’s up?” She needed to get a hold of him soon, anyway, to see if he’d come out here and drive a truck back with her stuff, while she drove her car back.

“I... um... I’m not sure how to put this.”

She frowned. Tristan never hesitated. She couldn’t take any more bad news this week. “What’s going on? Are you all right? Are Mom and Dad all right?”

“Everyone’s fine.” His laugh soothed her fractured nerves. “You’re going to be an aunt.”

She couldn’t have heard him right. This was the opposite of bad news. “That’s awesome. How?”

“Please don’t make me explain to you where babies come from. Not a second time.”

She giggled. It felt good. “I mean I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“I wasn’t. It was... It’s a long story. Some day we’ll sit and have coffee, and maybe I’ll tell you the whole thing.”

“Okay. Who’s the mother? Does she know?”

“You’re in top smartass form today.” Tristan sounded amused. “Her name is Victoria Small. I don’t think you’ve ever met her.”

Trina hadn’t, but she knew the name. Every girl her age did. The woman was a child star. Or had been. “As in, Vicky Next Door? Wasn’t she dating Mischa?”

“Years ago.” Was that irritation in his voice?

Nah. “Okay. Well, Congratulations. When’s the baby due? I want to be there. So amazing.” She was doubly glad she’d answered the phone. This was about the best way she could think of, to lighten things up.

“Can you get the time off work?” Tristan asked.

And her mood slipped. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”

“Why do you sound like that?”

Great. Now he was paying attention. Unlike New Year’s. “I lost my job.”

“What? Why?”

“They said I was too friendly with a client during the Ride & Surf install. Said I was fraternizing.” Might as well put the truth out there.

“Bullshit. I’ll put you in touch with an employment attorney. Don’t worry about the cost; I’ve got you covered. They can’t fire you for that.”

She sighed. “They can if it’s true.”

“So you hooked up with someone on Spencer’s staff? Who the fuck cares, as long as they don’t have an impact on your work?” Now he was back to being blind again.

Wonderful. Not. “That’s not quite what happened.”

“I don’t understand.”

“And I don’t know why not. You’re usually more observant than this.” She tried to keep the jab light and playful. “It wasn’t someone on his staff. I was sleeping with the boss.”

“I... Oh. Oh fuck. You’re two thirds his age.”

She rolled her eyes. This would be a good time for this conversation to end. Or maybe five minutes ago, when they were still on the happy baby news. “Thanks for the math help, Pythagoras. It doesn’t matter, because we broke up. Besides, last time I checked, Victoria Small was the same age as me.”

“But she’s—”

“She’s what?” Trina didn’t want to do this with her brother. “More mature than me? You’re a better guy than Spencer?”

“I’m trying to look out for you. There are things you don’t know about Spencer.”

She didn’t doubt that, however she had a feeling they weren’t bad things. “Like what? Because he and I talked a lot when we were together, and I’d guess there are things you don’t know about him, either.”

“He’s not good enough for you.”

She wasn’t going to get mad at Tristan. He was coming from a place of love. She wanted to throttle him, though. “First of all, fuck you. You don’t get to say who I do and don’t date.” His concern might have rolled off her any other week except for this one. “Second, he was your best friend once upon a time. You’ve known each other since you were children, and he never betrayed you. Did he?”

“No, but—”

“But what? Tell me what this big secret is that I don’t know, that could crush me if he and I were to stay together.” Which they weren’t, but the words were sweet on the tip of her tongue. They brought familiar memories that soothed, when they should have hurt.

“It’s not as though there’s any one thing.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. She wouldn’t take her frustration with the world out on Tristan, just like she should have handled things differently with Spencer. “How about this? If you don’t think he’s good enough, you’ll never approve of anyone.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Besides, you said you’re not together anymore, so it doesn’t matter.”

She sank back against the wall and slid to the floor. “Yeah. It doesn’t matter.” Her fight was gone.

“Are you going to be all right?” Tristan sounded concerned.

She’d be better when people stopped asking her that. “Sure. Whatever doesn’t kill me, I suppose.”

She finished the call with Tristan, but her enthusiasm was gone. When she disconnected, she set her phone on the floor, then hugged her legs to her chest.

This bit so hard. How long until thoughts of Spencer didn’t hit her like a wave, and steal her thoughts and her breath and her sanity?

She rested her forehead on her knees. She hoped it was sooner, rather than later. Please?