Page 61 of Dangle

“Isaac—”

“Goodnight, Malachek,” Isaiah said, following his brother’s example and interrupting me before shutting the door in my face.

SIXTEEN

SLONE

April

“You’re melancholy as fuck,” Ewen stated from across the office we shared. “Again.”

An ache settled in my teeth from the bone-crushing clenching when I clamped down to keep the ‘Fuck off’ locked inside. It wasn’t the first time he had said those words to me since Nashville, and I knew it wouldn’t be?—

“I thought for sure getting a boy under you?—”

That turned off the filter. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Do you…”

I glared at him. If a human could have lasers for eyes, mine surely would burn his ass to a crisp at the moment.

“Do not finish that sentence.”

Ewen’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “Wow! Okay. Touchier subject than I thought.”

He wasn’t wrong about any of it. Touchy didn’t encompass how and what I’d been feeling since Nashville. Nearly two months had passed with no contact from Trey. He had my number. I told him to use it.

He hadn’t.

Not even a text the night we returned and had to fight a blizzard to get our asses back home. I’d almost called Will to askhim to check on Trey and his teammates, but before I could even voice the thought, Ewen took my phone and told me to harness the creepy shit.

The silence spoke volumes. Trey didn’t want me. Or he did, and he didn’t want to risk being with a dominant man who owned a kink club and referenced spanking his ass more than once if memory served.

Whatever the case may be, I shot my shot and came up short. Nothing to do now but lick my wounds and get back to living in the rut. And to finding my way out of it, because even if I never heard from the boy again, he showed me I’d been living life in the shadow of my former self and I needed to step out into the light.

“Have you called him?” Ewen asked, interrupting my thoughts and dragging me back to a conversation I didn’t want to have. Ever.

“No.”

“Why not?”

My face shifted without permission. One would think the reason I hadn’t picked up the phone would be obvious to my best friend. But then I remembered Ewen, love his stupid soul, was clueless at the best of times and an idiot all the rest of the time.

“Don’t give me that look. If you want the boy, go claim him.”

“Fucking stop!” I shoved to my feet, yelling. My voice echoed in the room. “I know you think you’re helping, but you’re not. It’s been two fucking months, Ewen. Eight motherfucking weeks. I’ve not heard from him, and I’m not going to. So, drop it.”

“Seven,” he muttered.

“What?”

“It’s been seven weeks since we got back from Nashville.”

I shook my head, my nostrils flaring with rage. “You’re a motherfucking prick.”

Ewen opened his mouth, but it shut when I leveled a gaze at him while leaning forward, my hands braced on the desk.

“And for the record,” I said, “I didn’t get the boy under me. I don’t fuck drunk, and you know it. The kid walked into EDGE and downed more shots than the rest of us combined. Then he poached drinks, Ewen. He drank shit off tables left behind by others. He was absolutely fucking hammered. He could’ve been roofied for all I knew.”