I shook my head and scratched my jaw. Carrie was expecting me there, and after everything she’d done, not only for Grayson, but for Red Snake, I couldn’t let her down. I couldn’t fail her too.
Fucking hell, I was going back to Astoria.
My phone dinged again, pulling me from my thoughts.
Ash: Update on the garlic bread: Margo is making it.
Tossing my phone onto the counter, I bit off a curse.
Come on, Mitchell. You’ve handled worse. You can handle seeing your one-night stand.
“She wasn’t supposed to be a one-night stand,” I whispered to my empty apartment. “She wasn’t supposed to be anything—I should have never allowed her to be anything.”
Margo Bennett was the last thing I expected, and now, after having her, even just for a night, she was the only thing I wanted.
My brow furrowed as I took in my space, the group chat still going, my phone endlessly buzzing. It hit me then: how different Margo and I were. I hadn’t allowed myself to see all of her space, but from what I did see, she was all color and chaos. Her tiny, cozy apartment was mix-matched and unorganized. Normally, a place like that would make my skin crawl. But the morning I left her, my skin didn’t crawl as I walked across her hot pink rug, weaving through her funky pieces of furniture.
I looked into my living room then, studying the brown leather couches, cream rug, and the three pieces of art hanging on the wall. It had taken me a few months to get everything here after the Red Snake relocation. Some of the loose ends I had to take care of in Charlotte took a little longer than I expected, Veronica being one of them. Everything matched, everything had a place, a purpose.
The complete opposite of Margo’s place.
Moving away from the counter, I left my phone and went to stand in front of my TV.
My skin began to crawl.
Christ, that woman.
I ran my hand over my short hair, knowing that if I ignored the boys and didn’t show up, Grayson would be on my doorstep tomorrow morning, ready to kick my ass. I didn’t mind pissing off Grayson. It was something I’d done over and over again, and there were several times when he’d pissed me off.
But I couldn’t hurt Carrie.
As if on cue, my phone began to ring. Grayson’s tone. “Fuck me,” I muttered before snatching my phone off the counter.
“Mitchell,” I answered.
“All right, I stepped outside,” Grayson informed me, voice hard. “You have two seconds to tell me what the fuck is going on, or I’m driving to Portland.”
“There’s nothing—”
“Cut the shit,” he growled. “Ever since you wrapped up the Harold account, you’ve been off.”
“Gray—”
“It’s been weeks, and you still haven’t completed your debrief with Dominic,” he continued, either not hearing me or just not giving a fuck. Judging by his tone, it was the latter. “I’m ordering you, not only as your fucking boss but as your friend, to cut the shit and tell me what’s going on.”
I fucked your fiancée’s best friend senseless, and then I decided I wanted more than just one night with her because I’ve thought about her every single day for over a year. But when she moaned another man’s name in her sleep, I felt a pain in my chest that I hadn’t felt since the accident, and I’m still dealing with the fact that I lost her before she was ever truly mine.
My silence didn’t help his mood. “Did something happen on the hunt?”
“No,” I pushed out, heading into my bedroom.
“Don’t lie to me, Mitchell.”
“Nothing happened,” I replied calmly—coldly. “The mission was cut-and-dry. No complications.”
“Grayson?” Carrie called in the background, and then I heard him sigh.
“Are you coming tonight or not? Carrie needs a head count,” he said, his voice low.