The Problem with Forever
“I’m sorry about Carl,” I said. “He’s just...really protective.”
“It’s okay.” Rider dropped my hand as we neared my car, and I knew that it really wasn’t okay. “I understand.”
I frowned. “Understand what?”
He lifted a shoulder as he snatched the keys out of my hand. “Everything.”
* * *
The large, rundown industrial building across from the ancient row homes reminded me a little of Rider’s abandoned factory. Windows were boarded up and the faded red brick was covered from the ground to the roof in graffiti. I knew it wasn’t Rider’s, because it wasn’t nearly as beautiful, but it did create an odd combination of dull shades and bright, in-your-face color.
Rider pulled into a parking lot that was partially enclosed with high, chain-link fencing. Half the fence had fallen down, and someone had piled up the broken sections in one corner of the lot. The off-white pavement threatened to crumble beneath our feet as we walked out.
“Is it okay for the car to be parked here?” I asked. I’d never been to this neighborhood, but I knew it wasn’t too far from where he lived.
Rider nodded as I dropped my keys into the purse. “No one will mess with it.”
I wasn’t necessarily worried about anyone messing with it. More like it getting towed away due to all the No Trespassing signs plastered everywhere.
Rider took my hand as we crossed the narrow street. “This is Rico’s place. It’s not the nicest, but we won’t be bothering Mrs. Luna by hanging over here when she gets home from work.”
My throat had dried as we climbed the wide steps. Rider didn’t even knock. Just opened the door and we went right inside. Laughter echoed through the dark entryway and there was that rich, earthy scent.
“Hey, man,” an older guy said. He was sitting in a recliner, a tall bottle in his hand. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much,” replied Rider. He squeezed my hand. The living room was full of people. My gaze darted nervously as Rider started to introduce me to the guys in the room. I recognized Rico, but I hadn’t seen anyone else before.
“This is—”
“Mallory,” a familiar voice said from behind us. Paige.
I stiffened as Rider turned halfway. “Hey there,” he said as she handed him a cup. Not me. Just him. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Her gaze flickered over me. “Nice dress.”
I had a feeling that wasn’t necessarily a compliment. She looked amazing, as usual, in skintight black jeans and a strappy tank top in a shimmery, silvery color. How was she not cold? Maybe it was because she was the devil.
The devil that spoke the truth.
“Thanks,” I murmured anyway. Those were pretty much the only words she’d spoken to me since the day in the hallway when she told me I was going to break Rider’s heart. I knew they still sometimes talked. I was okay with that as long as I didn’t get dragged into conversations with her.
Paige arched a brow. She didn’t just walk past us into the living room. She sashayed, swinging hips and all. She sat on the couch, in between two older guys who nodded at Rider. They were focused on the TV, their fingers flying over the game controllers.
“There’s shit to drink in the kitchen.” Rico nodded in my direction. “If she wants something.”
“Cool.” Rider tugged me around and we walked do
wn the hall, into a sparse kitchen. Empty beer boxes were piled next to an overflowing trash bin. He placed the cup Paige had handed him onto the counter and then walked to the fridge. A sharp smell hit the air when he opened the door. “There’s some Mountain Dew in here. That work for you?”
I nodded. “So does Paige hang out here a lot?”
He shrugged as he handed a can over to me then grabbed one for himself. “Sometimes. Rico’s a friend of her family.”
“You’re not going to drink...what Paige gave you?”
“Nope.”
For some stupid and most likely childish reason, I was happy to hear that. Rider curled his hand around the nape of my neck and lowered his head. When he spoke, his warm breath danced over my lips. “How are you doing?”