Bad Things

I shrugged.

“Is this a girl friend or a guy friend?” he asked, just as though he had the right.

I cleared my throat. “It’s a guy, though it’s not a big deal. Like I said, we’re just going out to dinner.”

He nodded, rubbing his jaw and looking at his feet. “It’s not your ex, is it?” he asked quietly, his voice low.

“It’s not,” I rushed to answer, a little defensive because I had considered that idea, albeit briefly.

“Just a friend, huh?” he asked blandly.

“Yep.”

“So why does it have to be just the two of you? That seems more like a date to me.”

I felt my temper rise a bit. “What if it was a date? Would there be something wrong with that?”

He moved into the small opening, bringing his face close. I was sitting cross-legged, and his hand found my knee, squeezing lightly. “I thought you said you weren’t going to date for a while? Didn’t Lucy tell you that you should avoid that for now, and didn’t you agree with her?”

“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to nag each other? Wasn’t that on our stupid list?”

“There’s a difference between nagging, and expressing concern.”

“Now you sound like Lucy,” I said dryly.

“Who is this guy you’re going out with tonight? Why have I never heard about these plans until today?”

I hated, absolutely despised, that he sounded like a concerned parent just then. “How about we add this to our list? I don’t get to ask you about who you fucked last night, and you don’t get to ask me who I go out with.”

He looked around, eyes wide. “Watch the language. The kids.”

The boys had moved on as soon as we’d started having grown up talk. They were currently wrestling with Pupcake in the sandbox by the fence.

“You should fucking talk,” I pointed out sharply.

“I’ve gotten better, haven’t I?”

He had a point. He’d improved his language around the kids faster than anyone could have predicted.

“Fine, I’ll drop it,” he said, his tone dark. “What time is he picking you up?”

“I’m meeting him somewhere at nine.”

“That seems late. And he can’t even be bothered to pick you up? You can do better, boo.”

“You’re an ass,” I told him, taking exception to the bite in his tone. “It was my idea to meet up.”

“Hiding him from me? You worried I’ll scare him off?”

I let out a noise of frustration through my teeth, wanting to throttle him.

“Sorry. I am being an ass. I’m just feeling, I don’t know…overprotective? The thought of you being alone with some strange guy makes me…worry.”

“Well, don’t. Where I’m concerned, all the damage has already been done. There’s nothing left to protect me from.”

He’d begun to back off, but at my words, he moved close again, studying my face, that big warm hand back on my leg. “What on earth does that mean?”

I blinked rapidly. I couldn’t believe I’d said something like that, and to him. Already, there was sympathy in his voice, enough sympathy to have me blinking back tears. I hated sympathy, but was somehow always strongly affected by it. “It’s nothing. Certainly nothing you want to hear about.”

“I certainly do. Please. I want to know just what you meant by that. What damage has already been done?”

All of it, I thought. “Nothing,” I said.

He didn’t buy that for a second. “We’re friends. You can tell me anything.”

I mulled that over. Was that true? I was in a mood to find out. “Promise you won’t feel sorry for me,” I whispered, my eyes on the kids, making sure they were out of trouble, and out of earshot.

“I promise,” he whispered back, his other hand reaching into the tree house opening and pulling at my shoulder to tug me further out. I let him, not even protesting when he had my legs out, his chest pressed against my bent knees. “Tell me.”

I grimaced. “It’s nothing, really. It’s old news, and not even that big of a deal. It’s just…you never have to be protective of me. I can take care of myself, and even if I can’t, I know from experience that I’ll survive it, whatever it is.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” he said softly, one of his hands moving into my hair.

Gently, he turned my head to look at him. “What the hell does it mean? Did someone hurt you? Are you talking about your ex? Do I need to go and hurt him?”

I shook my head. “He was a mistake, and a royal asshole, but no, that’s not what I meant. Though you can’t protect me from assholes, either. That’s my choice to make. What I mean is that I’m not some innocent kid. I haven’t been innocent in a very long time, so don’t go thinking that you need to protect me, as though I am.”

“Is that really what you think? That only innocents deserve protection?”

The bastard had pulled a Lucy on me. Is that really what I thought? As I considered the question, I realized that I did, at least as it pertained to me.

I was embarrassed by that realization, but it didn’t change my thinking. My issues were too deeply ingrained for that.

I shrugged, turning my head to look away from him. He didn’t let me, bringing his other hand to tip my chin up.

“Will you tell me what happened?” he asked, something in his tone making me think that he already knew.

“I will,” I allowed, “but not right now. Okay?”

He didn’t look happy about that, but he nodded, his hands dropping away.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I didn’t know who was more out of sorts after that.

I had effectively spread my black mood to Tristan, and we steered clear of each other for hours.

I was slipping my feet into my tennis shoes, getting ready to take the dogs for a walk, when Tristan approached me with a cajoling smile.

That smile was nothing but Trouble.

“I just got a call to do a promoting job tonight. Come with me. It’ll be fun. You can go out with what’s-his-name some other night.”

I glared at him, snapping the dogs into their leashes.

He took Coffeecup and Pupcake’s leashes, unfazed by my hostility. I let him, not speaking until we’d nearly circled the block. “I’m not changing my plans tonight.”

“Well, how late are you planning to stay out? You could come by the club after you’re done.”

“Stop,” I said quietly, my expression hard. “Why are you pushing this?”

“Are you really going to be out that late? What exactly are your plans?”

“Just stop!” I nearly shouted, angry now, at him—at both of us. “You don’t get to go out and do whatever the hell you want, and then ask me about what I’m doing.”

He gripped my arm just above the elbow, stopping me. “Is that what this is? Are you mad at me about last night? Is this revenge?”

“Why would this be revenge? How would it be revenge? We’re just friends right? We’re still sticking to that little list, right?”

He nodded, studying me. He looked worried. “You are mad at me. Fuck, Danika, I’m sorry if I hurt—”

“Don’t,” I interrupted him. “I’m not hurt. I’m just fine, but we need to establish some boundaries here. You can go fuck whoever you want whenever you damn well please, but you don’t get to keep tabs on me, just because I’m a girl. That’s not happening.”

His jaw clenched, and he let go of my arm.

He didn’t say another word about it, but if I’d thought he was in a foul mood earlier, it was nothing compared to the dark mood that conversation put him in.

He went out before I did that night. I was still getting ready when he left. He’d barely said a word to me—barely looked at me, since we’d walked the dogs.

He barely looked at me now, just hovered in the doorway of my bathroom while I put on makeup. “Be careful, boo, and call me if you need me.”

He left before I could respond.

I wore cuffed navy shorts, and a sleeveless, magenta, bib style silk shirt. A pair of flip-flops made it a casual look. I twisted my black hair into a smooth chignon at my nape. Smoky eyes and soft pink lips was the extent of my makeup. I wanted to look nice, but I certainly didn’t want to go overboard and give him the wrong impression.

Jared’s reaction when he saw me was enough to make me flush in pleasure. “You look amazing,” he said, swallowing. “You’re so beautiful.”

The brothers sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself.

Jared looked pretty good himself, in just a black T-shirt and jeans. He had the skinny rocker hunk look down pat. Aside from his build, he reminded me so much of Tristan that it made my heart twist just to look at him.

Dinner was friendly enough. I bombarded him with questions about the band I was so curious about. Everything about Tristan fascinated me, and the fact that he was in a band, and I’d met most of its members, but still hadn’t heard them play, consumed an unhealthy amount of my thoughts. Tristan didn’t share much about the band, but his amiable brother was more than happy to.

“Dean is putting together some gigs for us soon.”

“Do you have to call them gigs? Isn’t there a less douchey alternative to calling it a gig?”

He laughed richly, reminding me so much of his brother. “We have some performances coming up. Is that better?”

“Yes. Am I invited?”

“Of course you are!”

“Will you tell me when they’re happening?”

“I will, though I’m sure Tristan will tell you first.”

“Will you be sure to tell me anyway? In case Tristan doesn’t…”

“Okaaay. Are you two fighting or something?”

“No. Why?”

“I just got that feeling. And just so we’re clear…You two still aren’t dating, right?”

“Still not dating,” I said through my teeth, not sure how I felt about the whole thing. Nothing sucked worse than having feelings for someone who just may have been your best friend. Especially when that someone clearly didn’t return those feelings.

“I’m sure you know this, but Tristan warned me—ordered me rather, not to ask you out.”

“I know.”

“Normally I’d respect that, but if you two aren’t dating…or hooking up, I thought that was completely out of line, so I ignored him.”

“I know,” I said with a smile, though something in my gut twisted at the notion. Would Tristan have warned his brother off if he wasn’t at all interested? But then again, I’d always known he was attracted to me. He’d never made a secret of that.

“So I know this isn’t a date,” he continued with that engaging smile that ran in the family, “but maybe sometime, down the road, when you’re dating again, we can go on a date.”

“Maybe,” I allowed, returning his smile.