“?’Bout Yvonne?”
“That. And your new tenant.”
I tense. “What about her? He hasn’t said anything about her being here, has he?”
“Even he’s no
t that much of a dick,” Vaughn says. “But he does think you’re screwing her.”
I say nothing.
“Are you?”
“No.”
Technically true. Differentiating between oral sex and actual sex feels a bit high school, but I have zero intention of talking about what’s going on between me and Jenny Dawson.
As if I even know.
“Well, keep your dick in your pants around that one,” he says, taking a sip of coffee.
My gaze sharpens. “Why?”
“Look, I’ve got zero problem with a sexually liberated woman, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that that one’s a man-eater. The last thing you need is to get your cock tangled up with this girl when you’re still trying to untangle it from the last one.”
“I’m untangled from Yvonne,” I say wearily, wondering how early is too early for a beer. “We hadn’t had sex for weeks even before we broke up.”
He winces. “No wonder she cheated.”
I glare at him. “I didn’t cheat.”
“Because you’re decent when you’re not being an idiot,” Vaughn retorts. “Just…be smarter, okay? Make sure Jenny Dawson isn’t your rebound or balm for your wounded ego.”
“She’s not,” I all but snarl.
There it is again. That fierce, unfounded urge to protect her. To shield her from her own reputation.
“At the very least, end this idiotic charade,” Vaughn says tiredly. “Tell her who you really are.”
“She doesn’t need to know. And I didn’t lie to her about who I was. Just who you were. I really am Noah Maxwell.”
“You’re also Preston Walcott,” he snaps. “Don’t make her pay the price because your parents were stubborn idiots who gave you like twelve names, or because you like to pick and choose which name to use depending on your mood.”
“I’ve always wanted to be Noah,” I say. “Just Noah. You know that.”
“Yeah, but you’re not,” Vaughn counters. “And I, for one, don’t regret that your father dragged you into his life, because it means he brought you into mine.”
I feel a little stab of guilt. Edward Vaughn is one of the best men—the best friends—on the planet, and I’m all but spitting on our connection.
“A little more time, Vaughn,” I say quietly. “I hate having to say this out loud, but I’m…I’m reeling, man. I feel like I’ve been in an aimless free-fall for years, and this place…it’s helping. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but it’s helping.”
He searches my face carefully. “You sure it’s the place?” he asks slowly. “Or is it the girl?”
I don’t respond, but I know from Vaughn’s sigh that he already suspects the answer.
It’s a little bit of both.
Jenny