Silence greets me as I collect the rest of my things. When I turn on my heels, she’s sitting against the headboard and watching me with hesitation.
Lowering my clothes, I ask, “What?”
Her tongue runs across her bottom lip. “I don’t talk to him that much. I made dinner and some dessert for everyone and then I came downstairs after. There are peanut butter energy balls on the counter up there. I tried following a healthier recipe knowing you guys probably have to watch what you eat.”
Fuck me. “You can talk to him however much you want, Ivy. Caleb’s a good guy. He just has loose lips. Worse than DJ sometimes, which says a lot. If the guys weren’t chill, I wouldn’t live here. Doesn’t mean I’d trust those fuckers if you decide to hang out with them though.”
A small smile threatens to move her lips upward at the corners. “Worried your friends will like me more than you?”
I walk toward the door, gripping the edge before giving her a once over. It isn’t until then when I realize she’s wearing one of my shirts. It may not be my jersey, but the sight still goes right to my dick. “I know they will. There’s no competition.”
Blinking back her surprise, she grips the blanket in her fists and then flattens out the wrinkled material. “Oh.”
I snort at her dismal reply, not gracing her with one in return as I walk to the bathroom to get ready for bed. I’m hungry and need to grab something before settling in, but the stronger hunger gnawing at the pit of my stomach isn’t for food.
Deciding on just a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, I throw my clothes in the hamper and head back to my room. She’s on her side facing the door, her eyes trained on me when I enter and not leaving as I click the lock into place, turn off the light, and walk over to my side of the mattress. Her attention brands itself to my skin, and the feeling is nothing like when other girls follow my every move.
“I talked to my mom today,” I tell her cautiously, pulling the blanket back.
A few seconds pass. “Yeah?”
Humming, I settle my back against the pile of pillows. “I told her about you.”
I can hear a couple guys raising hell upstairs, someone shouting outside, and a car going by with their radio blasting. Glancing in her direction, I clear my throat when she makes no effort to reply. “I know you’re not sleeping, Chaos.”
She rolls over to look at me. “Why would you tell her about me? Why now?”
“Because you’re sleeping with me.”
Not that I can tell in the darkness, but she’s undoubtedly scowling. “You let your mother think we’re fucking?”
My cock twitches, but I settle it down despite her lips forming my favorite word. “Not exactly. I’m sure that would make Thanksgiving awkward when we go.”
“Come again?”
“You know my mom. She has a heart of gold and won’t let anyone celebrate alone. So, no. I didn’t tell her we were screwing. I’m not a liar, and I like to avoid having that sort of conversation with my parents.” This isn’t how I wanted to broach the topic, but it’s now or never. “Before you tell me no, hear me out.”
“Absolutely not.”
When she throws the covers off her, I grab her wrist before she can bolt from bed. “No. I’m not done talking.”
She tries, and fails, to jerk away. “And I don’t like being grabbed but you obviously haven’t gotten the memo that people don’t like being manhandled.”
Instantly, I let her go and she doesn’t expect the sudden change. Her body nearly topples from the bed, but I capture and steady her. “In my defense, you usually need to be stopped whenever I decide to manhandle you.”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure you would have had a wonderful sleepover with Remi. He wouldn’t have touched you at all. Perfect fucking gentleman, that one.”
“Fuck off.”
“Don’t think so, Chaos.”
She makes a noise and gets out of bed. “I don’t even know how we got onto this topic. Forget about that asshole. I was never planning on sleeping with him. It’s not my problem that you don’t seem to believe it.”
This is going nowhere. “Come to Thanksgiving with me. Don’t try bullshitting me into believing you have other plans because I’ll call you out on it.”
There are footsteps nearing the door and I’m halfway out of bed thinking she’s leaving when the light flicks back on. I blink rapidly to adapt to the sudden change before seeing her unamused expression. “Who says I don’t have plans? Maybe I’m going to Bea’s.”
I sit back down, leg bent and propped on the mattress with the other foot on the floor ready to push off the bed in case she tries leaving. “If you had her to go to, which you could if you weren’t so damn independent, then you would have never even entertained the idea of leaving with him.”
She has no response to that because it’s obvious that I’m right. “You don’t want to go home, and I can’t even pretend to understand. Your parents suck. You don’t talk to Porter.” I stop for a moment and eye her. “You don’t, do you? You’ve never said a word about him. You don’t say anything about any of them.”
Her eyes go to the wall where a few random pictures hang of me and my family. I’ve caught her looking at them more than once since she started staying here.
Every time I’ve tried bringing up her family, she changes the subject. But something is different tonight, and I’m thankful she says, “I looked him up online once. Found his Facebook. But Mom and Dad…they weren’t worth my time when I realized the feeling was mutual.”
Interest flares in my chest. “And?”
She walks over to the furthest photo of me and my old dog Captain who passed away a year ago, her fingers lifting to touch his image. “I didn’t have a reliable phone or anything at the time, so I didn’t bother sending him a message. I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to go back online or text him. Eventually, I stopped bothering to go on because there was no reason.”
I let out a disbelieving breath. “No reason, huh?” Scrubbing a palm across the side of my face, I ask, “Did you look me up? I tried searching for you. Never found anything.”
Hesitation takes hold of her tongue. “I had a fake name. Didn’t want Mom and Dad finding me, not that I think they would have tried. And yes, I looked you up every time I had a computer nearby. Most of the phones I kept didn’t have internet. They were prepaid junk. Cheap, you know? The one you gave me fell into a mud puddle and stopped working, and I didn’t exactly have easy access to money then. But I’d go to public libraries and use their computers for a while. Your mom tags you in a lot of photos. I got to see your sports stats and the selfies Judd and the other douchebags you hung out with always took. You never smiled in any of them. You always looked annoyed.” Her shoulders lift as if it doesn’t matter. “It was nice to see that you were doing well enough though.”
“And what? No message? No indication that you were okay? Did you not expect to extend me the same courtesy you got?”
“It didn’t matter, Aiden. There was no way I could have told you where I was because there was nothing you could have done about my circumstances. Not without leaving everything you worked for behind.”