Page 54 of Changing Lanes

“What’s his problem with you anyway?”

Sighing, I slide on a pair of underwear under my towel, careful not to flash Beckett.

“Old dog, new tricks.”

Those dusk-like eyes flash with stars streaking across them as they abandon the doorjamb to track my movements. He catches himself a moment too late and his eyebrows nosedive trying to hide it.

Hmm. The war rages on.

“And you’re the trick?”

There it is. That infamous mouth of his. The one he wields as a weapon to torture me with both pleasure and pain.

“Wow. Two prostitute references in one night. I bet your mom must be proud.”

Back to his bullish behavior, his nostrils flare.

What the hell does he have to be offended about? I didn’t suggest he was a sex worker. Twice. And honestly, most of them work their asses off for reasons people like him would never understand. I’ve never had to sell my body for money—thankfully—but if it ever came down to that or someone I love going without basic needs, I’d pick the former. Without question. Have my body but leave my soul intact because nothing could ever hurt worse than watching a loved one suffer. Nothing.

For people to judge that kind of sacrifice floors me but Beckett’s idea of going without is probably using condoms geared toward her pleasure. I imagine him with two loving parents, doting on him so well, he never had to think about that sort of thing. About choosing someone else’s well-being over your own.

I’m still waiting for him to mash his teeth and stomp the ground when he spits, “I call it like I see it. You just had your lips glued to mine after kissing how many guys since moving in?”

Laughing, I shove my scrubs on under my towel. I can’t have this conversation pantless. I just can’t. He’s been all over the same number of girls, if not more, than me and yet I deserve judgment? I’m the problem here?

Just when Beckett was proving to be something different, something better in a world full of less, he goes and reveals his true colors, and they’re ugly. Just like mine.

“I didn’t hear you complaining a second ago.” Far from it. “I guess you like sloppy seconds after all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a short list of fucks to give and none with your name so…”

With a flick of my wrist, I turn my back to him and drop my towel exposing my naked torso.

“What about you?” His sneer lashes my back, quick and unforgiving. “I doubt you’re making Mommy swell with pride.”

I wait until his footsteps disappear into the next room to answer, choking out, “I’d give anything to know.”

CHAPTER 13

Paige

“Dennis, put the mug down.” Technically, it’s just the handle but it’s still sharp and could be used as a weapon. He already smashed the damn mug into the wall and is now brandishing it in front of his body to hold us off.

Cynthia and I exchange glances and I give a slight nod in the other direction. She gets the hint, moving to her left, effectively taking Dennis’s focus with her.

Seeing my opening, I dive forward and wrench the broken piece out of his hand before he has time to process what happened. I slip it into my pocket then hold my hands up in front of me to block any retaliation he might try.

Luckily, Dennis just stares at his empty hand in confusion.

“What’s going on out here?”

My head jerks to the side at the sound of my mother’s voice.

Wrong move.

The next thing I know my hair is being yanked back by a strong grip. Not like Beckett’s careful hair pulling either, this shit hurts. Bad. So bad I cry out, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Oh, no you don’t. She’s not going with you.”

My mother ignores Dennis’s ramblings, scolding, “Let her go! Right now, or I’ll get the spoon.”