It’s beautiful here, and peaceful, and I love it, even if I have ended up back in a trailer after all.
Z agreed to come stay here with Bruiser while I was out of town because his place is a shit apartment in East Austin with loud neighbors that Bruiser hates.
I turn the key in the front door, take a deep breath, and push it open.
Z’s right there on the other side.
Like he was waiting for me.
I frown. His eyes are bloodshot, and he doesn’t look like he’s showered since I left days ago.
“Where’s Bruiser?” I ask immediately, clocking the wrongness in the air. I might live in a trailer, but Bruiser and I keep it tidy. Right now there are beer cans and pizza boxes everywhere.
But Z just backs up as I pull my rolling suitcase in behind me.
“Bruiser?” I call.
There’s no response, but the kiddo keeps those sound-canceling headphones on 24/7 when he’s on his computer, so it doesn’t necessarily mean anything.
I look toward his room. The door is closed.
“How was the conference?” Z asks, pushing off the wall by the front door with manic, nervous energy.
I walk toward Bruiser’s room, dragging my suitcase behind me as I shove open his door.
The lights are off and the room’s empty.
“Z, I’m not playing.” I swing back to him. “Where’s Bruiser?”
“He’s at Ximena’s house.”
“Why? You knew I’d be home today? Did you have an unexpected haul or something?”
But Z’s eyes just narrow, dark and almost beady. “How was the conference? Huh, Harp?”
“It was fine,” I say distractedly, pulling up my phone and clicking Ximena’s number to start a text.
“But you weren’t at the conference.Were you?”
My thumb pauses mid-text.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I look at Z.
“It means you were lying and you didn’t go to a fucking conference,” Z says, and for the first time since I’ve come in, I really get a look at his face and the stubborn tilt of his brow.
He only gets that look when he’s really pissed.
Or when he’s on something.
Or both.
Okay… so somehow he knows I lied about going to the conference. As if that’s anything compared tohislies.
Fine. I guess we’re going to have this out sooner rather than later. It’s good Bruiser’s at Ximena’s after all.
I put my hands on my hips. “Just say what you have to say.”
“Iknowyou went to Dallas,” Z accuses angrily. “I know you sawhim.” He all but spits out the last word. “How long have you been having an affair behind my back?”