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him to experience.

“Ok,” I agree. “But take the truck so you don’t have to wait for a ride.”

She takes the keys when I offer them, and I use the opportunity to run my thumb over the back of her hand. She doesn’t respond the way I want. She simply pulls the keys away and heads over to Alex. She whispers softly to him before pressing a kiss to his forehead and leaving the suite.

There’s a finality to the sound of the door closing behind her, as if the door is a wall she’s just firmly locked back in place. It screams I regret it, it’ll never happen again, you took advantage of me when I was weak.

I get the message loud and fucking clear.

Alex, thankfully, is ignorant to what happened last night and what just happened, and for that I’m grateful. Now I can only hope that Tinley doesn’t use the latest mistake of mine to make my son withdraw from the relationship we’ve been working on.

Alex eats breakfast in a nearly catatonic state, muscle memory making his fork shovel food into his mouth as his eyes stay locked on the television. The sound isn’t even on, but it’s as if he doesn’t notice.

I sit with him in silence, not tasting the eggs and toast I ordered for myself.

I’m so out my element right now. I don’t know what to say to make things better. I don’t know that there’s actually anything I could tell him that would set him at ease a little, so I don’t even try. The last thing I want is his anger, and I know it’s bottled up inside of him waiting for an outlet. I know he needs to release it, but I’m a selfish bastard, not wanting it to be directed at me. The tenuous bond we’ve built could be shattered with a few hate-filled words, and I’m not willing to risk it right now, not with the look on Tinley’s face when she left. If he told her he never wanted to see me again, I don’t know that she would defend me at this point.

I fucked up big time last night. I wanted to stop it. I knew deep down that no good could come of it, but her persistence, even if it was just a blink in time before I gave in, was too much to deny. When her mouth met mine, when her tongue begged for entrance, I was already gone, lost to her and the warmth of her body against mine.

I knew deep down before I crawled in bed with her that if things went that direction, she wouldn’t see me the same way before we touched.

I fucking knew.

And I did it anyway.

“I’m going to go make a phone call,” I tell Alex, unable to sit idle and do nothing.

The call connects, a video chat with Wren before I break the threshold into the bedroom.

“Tough news yesterday, man,” he says when the call connects.

“Yeah,” I agree, a small smile playing on my lips when a squawking version of Bob Marley’s version of Everything’s Gonna Be Alright comes from Puff Daddy.

“Now’s not the damn time,” Wren snaps at the bird, only to be met with raspberry sounds from his African Grey parrot.

“Just let it happen,” the bird snaps before he dives right back into the chorus of the song.

Wren rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“How are things at work?”

“You really want to talk about work?”

I look away from my phone screen.

“Unless you have a magic wand to wave over this entire situation?”

“Man, do I wish. Deacon asked me earlier if I thought sending a couple of the guys down there would help.”

The offer hangs in the air between us. Having the guys I work with—men I view as brothers—would be amazing, but I have to focus on Alex and Tinley and what they need, not what would benefit me right now.

“The offer stands,” he says when I don’t answer.

“I appreciate it.”

“We can talk about what’s going on here,” Wren offers.

“Tell him, fucker!” the bird yelps. “Tell him what happened!”

“More drama in the Nelson household, I presume?”

Wren and his live-in girlfriend share the same last name and is the sole reason they ever met in the first place. After a misplaced package of sex toys was mistakenly sent to him instead of her months ago, he did what he does best by researching her and practically falling in love with what he found before he ever laid eyes on her in real time.

Wren is distracted and glaring at his bird, and I take the time to really look at myself in the bathroom mirror, wondering if Tinley looks at my familiar face and only sees the man I used to be or the man I am now. From the way she acted this morning, I can only presume it’s the former.

“Tell him!” the bird urges again, his animal voice marked with anger. “Tell him what Satan did!”

“Simon—”

“That fucking devil cat!”

“Simon—” he begins again.

“Deserves to die!”

“Do you want me to tell him or are you going to keep—”

“A slow painful death!”

Wren pauses, his eyes focused across the room at his interrupting parrot.

“Look at me!” the bird insists. “Look what he did!”

Giving in, Wren turns his camera so I can see the fucking bird. I swear the damn thing has to be the center of attention in every situation.

Puff Daddy, the name he already had when Wren got him as a teenager, has his back to the camera, his little body bent over with what should be his tail feathers stuck in the air. If a bird can have a bare ass, then that’s what I’m looking at.

“Where are his feath—”

“That goddamn cat!” Puff spreads his wings, jumping up and down like a maniac.

We both wait for the squawking and long tirade of cuss words to end, but they seem to go on forever.

“What’s going on?”

I turn to find Alex standing in the doorway of the room, his face marked with trepidation.

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