He gave me a squeeze.
“Darlin’, you need to go see him.”
I froze.
Then my head listed up, and I stared at him through watery eyes.
“Sorry?” I whispered.
“This upsets you, baby. He fucked you over, but you’re fuckin’ undone. This means he still means somethin’ to you. You gotta go see him. You don’t, you’ll regret it.”
“He doesn’t mean anything to me.” I was still whispering, and Buck gave me another squeeze while he leaned forward and kissed my nose.
When he pulled back, he said gently, “Toots, I get you’re mine, so you don’t have to lie to me about this.”
“I’m not lying.”
He moved a hand to my jaw, his thumb sweeping through the wetness on my cheek. Then he slid that wetness across my lower lip.
“Taste that, Toots. You know what that taste is. So do I. And, baby, you don’t need to lie to me. No matter what it is, you never need to lie to me.”
“He babied me when I was sick,” I whispered, and Buck’s body got tight under mine. “Even if it was a sniffle, he acted like I was an invalid. Bought the whole drugstore, waited on me hand and foot.”
“Toots—”
“I used to collect spa products. Face masks. Shampoo. Conditioner. Pumice scrub. Exfoliant. I used to spend hours in the bathroom relaxing and primping. He told me I didn’t need that stuff. I didn’t need to spend that time, that nothing could make me more beautiful than I already was.”
“Clara, I get it. I don’t wanna hear—”
“We met young. He dazzled me. Then he wound me up. Wound me up in him. Except for Tia, he was my whole world.”
“Baby,” Buck pressed his thumb to my mouth, “quiet.”
I wasn’t quiet.
I pulled away from his thumb and kept talking.
“But the only thing he gave me, really, was an education on what love was not. To this day, I’m not certain what love is, but I know what it’s not. Rogan taught me that.” I wrapped my fingers around the side of his neck. “And Buck, after yearning all my life for someone to love me, just love me, that isn’t a fun lesson to learn.”
“Fuckin’ hell, Toots,” he whispered.
“I’m not crying because I have feelings for him. I’m crying because I’m so sick and so, so very tired of finding something good and feeling the world solid under my feet and having someone come in and rock it…again.” I dropped my head to his shoulder and muttered, “I’m just tired. Why can’t everyone just let me be?”
Buck slid his arms around me again and he gathered me close, but he didn’t have an answer to my question.
Likely because there wasn’t one.
“I was talking to Mrs. Jimenez. Talking about enchiladas at your house and how good you could cook. Normal stuff. Food. Friends. That’s all I want my life to be. That isn’t asking much. Why is that so hard?” I asked.
“It’ll pass, Toots.”
I shook my head then pressed my cheek to his shoulder. “I’m thirty-two, West. It hasn’t yet and I’m beginning to think it never will.”
“Babe,” he muttered.
“Six and a half million dollars,” I whispered. “He thinks that’s taking care of me.” I shook my head against his shoulder. “As Gear would say, that…is…whacked.” I sighed and proclaimed, “Happiness is Pop-Tarts. I wish he got that.”
I felt Buck’s body move against mine, and I lifted my head and looked down at him to see he was what I thought he was.
Laughing.
“What’s funny?” I asked.
“Happiness is Pop-Tarts?”
“Absolutely.”
He stared at me a second and then threw his head back and roared with laughter, his arms convulsing around me.
My body got stiff.
“I’m being very serious, West Hardy,” I informed him.
“Yeah, babe,” he said through his hilarity, his eyes focusing on me, “I know.”
“I just endured a drama,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, babe, I saw.”
“There is nothing to laugh at,” I snapped.
“Gorgeous, you just told that asshole to tell your ex to shove six and a half million dollars up his ass.”
“I know, but that is not funny.”
“I’m awash with happiness. Lead me to him straight away,” he quoted, shaking his head, still laughing. “Some a’ the shit that comes outta your mouth, babe. Fuckin’ priceless.”
“Buck, I’m not finding this amusing.”
“Do you want an island in the Pacific or are you thinkin’ Caribbean?” he inquired.
“Stop joking!” I snapped and slapped his shoulder.
“It can’t be too expensive. We gotta leave you at least a million to buy bikinis and pumice scrub, whatever the fuck that is,” he remarked.
With a frustrated noise, I tried to shove out of his lap, but his arms only got tighter.
“You leave my lap, babe, you do it to lock the doors and close the blinds.”
“It’s normal operating hours, Buck,” I told him haughtily. “The doors and blinds are open during normal operating hours so I can see what’s going on and the boys can get to me if they need me, even if I’ve just endured another drama.”