Craving Rose (The Aces' Sons 5)

I actually liked cooking for more than one person. I liked letting someone know when I’d be home at night, or if I wouldn’t be home at all. I liked having someone to watch a movie with and eat dinner with and bitch about my day to.

Pulling my blanket tighter around my shoulders, I stared blankly at the TV. Maybe I’d jumped in to a relationship with Copper too quickly because I hated living alone. We’d gone from dating to practically living together within a few weeks, and I hadn’t listened to anyone when they’d warned me that I was headed for disaster. I’d liked having him to come home to. Sure, he talked over me sometimes, and I could never be mad about anything without him spinning it around until suddenly I was on the defensive side. And maybe he got mad when I wasn’t in the mood for sex, which drove me crazy, and he never put my needs before his own. But knowing rationally that he wasn’t good for me didn’t seem to matter, because now that he was gone, I was heartbroken, anyway.

“I need a cat,” I mumbled, using the remote to shut off the movie I was barely paying attention to. A cat would be great. So much less work than a dog, but still someone I could come home to after a long night at work.

I sniffled and closed my eyes, trying not to cry again. I’d done enough of that in the shower earlier. God, why had I been so trusting? Why had I put so much time and energy and love into someone that clearly didn’t even like me?

I swallowed back a sob and startled when someone started knocking on my front door. Who the hell would be knocking at ten-thirty at night? My heart started thundering as I walked toward the door, grabbing the baseball bat I kept in the entryway just in case. Maybe it was Copper. I hated that, even after all the things he’d said that morning, I still hoped it was him.

“I had a feeling you could use some company,” Lily said as I swung open the door. She strode inside, pushing me gently out of the way.

“You didn’t have to come over,” I argued, closing and locking the door. I shook my head as I took in her flannel pajamas and the ratty old blanket in her arms. “Leo took one look and kicked you out, didn’t he?” I joked drolly.

“Leo doesn’t give a shit what I wear,” she replied loftily, pointing her nose dramatically toward the ceiling. Then she crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at me. “Just kidding. He hates these pajamas.”

“I wonder why,” I said dryly. “You look like an old lady.”

“You always steal the covers,” she replied, turning off lights as she led the way to my room. “I wore fuzzy socks, too.”

“How can you wear socks to bed?” I mumbled. “Feet should be able to breathe at night.”

“Feet should be warm,” she argued, climbing onto my bed as I unwrapped the blanket around my shoulders and tossed it toward her.

“You really didn’t have to come over,” I said, taking off my rings and earrings and putting them on my nightstand. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” she replied.

“I’m disappointed,” I admitted as I climbed in beside her and turned off the lamp. “But I’m fine.”

“You said you loved him,” she said quietly as we turned to face each other. “That doesn’t just go away because he took off.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

We were quiet for a while, and the relief of having her there almost made me cry again. Lily was my best friend. My soul sister. We’d been best friends since the first time our moms had put us in the same crib to sleep.

“He wasn’t the one,” she whispered, reaching out to brush my hair away from my face. “He didn’t treat you like you deserve.”

“Maybe that was my fault,” I whispered back. “Maybe I pushed him away. I’m just not good at this.”

“Beep,” she said obnoxiously loud before lowering her voice again. “Wrong. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Nothing. He was a man-child who made you feel like shit.”

I snorted at her apt description.

“There’s a guy out there,” she said, tucking her hands under her cheek. “And he’s going to love all the different parts of you. The surly part that you show the people at work, and the sweet part you show us, and everything in between. He’s going to think it’s hilarious when you curse, and smack your ass when you’re giving him attitude, and he’s going to have a comeback for every smartass thing you say.”

“Maybe I should’ve toned it down a little,” I murmured. “But I’m just not good at the lovey dovey stuff, you know? I have three brothers who show love by smacking each other on the back and putting me into a headlock.”