The Temporary Roomie (It Happened in Nashville 2)

“From the moment we met, you’ve been adamant that you don’t need me. Not even for friendship. I haven’t decided how I feel about that yet.”

“Well…” Any sort of witty comeback shrivels up in my mind, and I’m left with nothing. A giant blank. His dark eyes pull me in, and I’m terrified I’m going to blurt out the truth I’ve kept gagged and chained in the back dark corner of my heart. Say something! Anything but the truth: I’m scared to need you.

“So you thought I had preeclampsia?”

He looks disappointed by my shift in conversation. “It’s always something to be aware of in your third trimester.” He pauses a second, and I can see the moment he shifts fully into the role of medical provider. “That condition doesn’t run in your family, does it? Like your mom never had it, did she?”

Everything freezes.

No. No, no, no.

This question triggers me every single time I’m asked it, because the truth is, I know very little about my family, let alone their health records. All I have are the small bits my grandaddy can offer me, but that’s it. And just like that, I feel all the walls in my heart begin to shoot back up. Self-preservation is an instinct I can’t shake, and it’s kicking in in the form of fight or flight right now.

“Not sure,” I say, pointing toward the TV and trying to signal Drew to pick something already. “How about that one?”

“You’ve never talked to her about it?”

“Nope. Hey, how about a Seinfeld rerun? That could be fun.”

“It’s important. You should ask her sometime.”

I clench my hands around the popcorn bowl, feeling that familiar anger snap inside me. “Hmm, well, do you have a good way of summoning the dead that I don’t know about?” I let my eyes slide to Drew and see the moment his lips part. He looks floored.

“Damn. I’m sorry, Jessie. I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine.” Aka It’s not fine, now shut up please.

I nod toward the TV again, but he doesn’t choose anything yet.

“How long ago did she—”

“Okay,

listen.” I whip my head in his direction. “We’re not talking about my family. Not now, not ever. Got it?”

Now Drew sits up straighter. Both of our spines are slowly growing stiff as boards. “Why are you getting so pissed off right now? I’m sorry I asked about your mom, but I truly didn’t know—”

“But see, that’s the problem with you! You stick your nose where it doesn’t belong and continually try to fix people or make decisions for them when they never asked for you to. You act like this is your role in life, but it’s a self-appointed role. Some people don’t want or need to be fixed. I’m not your patient.”

He expels a heavy breath and runs his hand through his hair, and it sticks up on the right side. I want to curse him for making himself look even sexier while I’m angry at him.

“Is this how it’s always going to be? You biting my head off about everything? I mean, geez, Jessie. I was trying to have one freaking conversation with you, get to know you the smallest amount, and you can’t even handle that.”

I can feel my expression harden, because he’s right. We were almost friends. I was on the verge of letting him in, and I absolutely don’t want to let that happen. “Yeah, this whole thing was a bad idea. We’re not friends, and I don’t like you, so let’s just quit pretending.”

His midnight blue eyes pierce me, and for a moment, he looks shaken. “I wasn’t pretending. I was trying to give us a shot at being civil to each other.”

I stand up from the couch—slowly, because my belly makes power exits difficult—but I eventually manage it. “Well, you can give that dream up right now. I don’t need any more friends. I’m full up, thanks. Let’s get through your stupid fundraiser, and once my house is fixed, I’ll go back home, and we can each forget the other ever existed.”

“You sure know how to make a guy feel good,” he calls over his shoulder as I storm toward the stairs. “You forgot your popcorn, Oscar.”

“Tell you what, just go ahead and shove it up your butt, Dr. Stuck-up.”

“You need a new insult. That one is worn out.”

I make it all the way upstairs before I let myself cry. I hate crying. It makes me feel weak and broken. I’ve felt that way too many times in my life, and I’m sick of it.

But when I wipe my tears away and fling open the door to my bedroom, I’m instantly reminded of my obnoxious, nosey, prying roommate. “ANDREW!” I yell and then jump when his voice sounds right behind me, hands gripping my biceps to gently move me out of the way. Unwanted chills fly over my skin. His body brushes against mine as he passes me in the door frame, and honestly, I’m a little shocked. Part of me expected him to storm out of the house for the night since I was so rude to him, but he was already on his way up here without me having to ask.