Sex Junkie (Cowboy Addiction 1)

“Bet they were glad to see you, huh?” Grant asked, picking up his fork and knife. He cut off a cheesy piece of omelet, shoving a hearty bite between his lips. “Especially since you let yourself in and all, bet they appreciated the hell out of that.”

Blake’s eyes pierced through Grant’s. He took a sip of coffee, waved his finger in front of an empty chair next to him and said, “Sit down. Tell us what’s going on with you.”

Nervously, she carried her mug to the table, gripping the handle as tightly as she could manage. Blake and Grant devoured their breakfasts like they’d never been fed, and she drank her coffee, hoping they wouldn’t want seconds.

When no one spoke, she finally cleared her throat and said, “Truth is, I haven’t seen Kit and Kemper yet. I got in last night. I let myself in.”

“With the key?” Grant pressed.

“No,” she said honestly. “I didn’t have one.”

Grant wiped his mouth. “You don’t say. How’d you get in?”

“Does it matter?” Blake asked.

“You know it does,” Grant bit out.

“Well, anyway”—Morgan struggled to keep the conversation moving—“I don’t know where they are.”

Around a mouthful of biscuit, Blake said, “They ain’t here.”

“And they probably don’t know you are,” Grant added.

“You’re right, Grant. They don’t know I’m in town,” she said bitterly, beginning to wonder if she made a wrong move returning there. She knew the long road to recovery would be a rocky one, but she wasn’t starting down that path with condemnation at her back.

A long silence taunted them almost as much as a full moon threatens to light the way for predators hunting their prey. She was afraid to interrupt the quietness for fear of an unwanted confrontation.

While they ate, Morgan considered what she might say, praying for the right words to explain her current predicament, some random phrase to coax their understanding. Nothing came to mind. Besides, she didn’t have to explain herself to them. She owed Kit and Kemper an apology, and they’d each receive one, but what did she really owe Blake and Grant?

Too much time had lapsed. There were too many buried memories. She couldn’t dig up the past as if yesterday would be cherished forever. Her present life paled in comparison to days she’d once spent loving them. But she wasn’t indebted to them.

Blake and Grant were her brothers’ best friends. Surely Kit and Kemper must have told them how low she sank when she began using drugs. Their suspicions were far too high. Grant acted as if he were angry, as if he couldn’t wait to gulp down breakfast and then call her brothers and see how they expected him to handle her.

Apparently, she wasn’t welcome there anymore.

“I must say I’m shocked to see the two of you together,” she finally blurted out, quite possibly the worst thing she could’ve said.

“You might say a woman separated us and brought us back together,” Grant replied, a bitter edge in his answer.

Blake looked up from his plate. “The same woman.”

“Oh,” she whispered. A surge of guilt washed over her. The four men in her life—the only people she’d ever considered her family—all held legitimate reasons for disappointment. She understood the hell she’d caused her brothers. If Blake and Grant were aware of her recent past, wouldn’t they have a right to be displeased with her as well?

Not really. Well, maybe.

She had been a big part of both their lives. That was a long time ago. They shouldn’t care about her life choices. Should they? She couldn’t decide.

Indecision was one thing she really hated about addiction. She was as wishy-washy as an old woman, hell-bent on pleasing everyone at her tea party.

Morgan could only hide behind a smile for so long. Eventually, the pressure would send her spinning. She was unstable.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to stay or go. This coming home bit may have been more than she could handle.

While she considered Blake and Grant part of her extended family, the truth wasn’t quite so romantic. Blake was her high school flame. Grant was her rebound lover. Still, she’d loved them equally and fairly. Then, when they let her go, she walked away. She didn’t cry or beg. Oh no, she embraced the freedom, made her own choices—however wrong they were—and discovered a single woman’s life wasn’t what it was cracked up to be.

Blake finished off his breakfast, tossed the napkin on the table, and said, “Lord howdy, Kit and Kemper will sure be glad to see you.”

She released a sigh of relief. That was something she’d been dying to hear. She wanted reassurance that her brothers wouldn’t kick her out as soon as they discovered she’d come back home.