Ugly Love Page 10

Lisa looks back and forth between us. “You know each other?”

Rachel doesn’t nod.

Neither do I.

Our disappointment melts to the floor and combines in a

puddle of premature tears at our feet.

“He, um, … he …”

Rachel is stuttering, so I help her finish her words. “I go to

school with Rachel,” I blurt out. I regret saying that, because

what I really want to say is, Rachel is the next girl I’m gonna fall

in love with.

I can’t say that, though, because it’s obvious what’s bound to

happen. Rachel isn’t the next girl I’ll fall in love with, because

Rachel is the girl who will more than likely become my new

stepsister.

For the second time tonight, I feel sick.

Lisa smiles and clasps her hands together. “That’s great,” she

says. “I’m so relieved.”

My father walks into the room. He hugs Lisa. He says hi to

Rachel and tells her it’s good to see her again.

My father already knows Rachel.

Rachel already knows my father.

My father is Lisa’s new boyfriend.

My father visits Phoenix a lot.

My father has been visiting Phoenix a lot since before my

mother died.

My father is a bastard.

“Rachel and Miles already know each other,” Lisa says to my

father.

He smiles, and relief floods his face. “Good. Good,” he says,

repeating the word twice as if it could make things better.

No.

Bad. Bad.

“That’ll make tonight a lot less awkward,” he says with a laugh.

I look back at Rachel.

Rachel looks at me.

I can’t fall in love with you, Rachel.

Her eyes are sad.

My thoughts are sadder.

And you can’t fall in love with me.

She slowly walks inside, avoiding my gaze as she watches her

feet with each step. They’re the saddest steps I’ve ever seen

taken.

I close the door.

It’s the saddest door I’ve ever had to close.

Chapter five

TATE

“Are you off for Thanksgiving?” my mother asks.

I switch my cell to my other ear and pull the apartment key out of my purse. “Yeah, but not Christmas. I only work weekends for now.”

“Good. Tell Corbin we’re not dead yet if he ever gets the urge to call us.”

I laugh. “I’ll tell him. Love you.”

I hang up and put my cell phone into the pocket of my scrub top. It’s only a part-time job, but it gets my foot in the door. Tonight was my last night of training before I start weekend rotations tomorrow night.

I like the job so far, and I was honestly shocked to land it after my first interview. It works out with my school schedule, too. I’m in school every weekday, doing either clinical or classroom hours, then I work second shift on the weekends over at the hospital. It’s been a seamless transition up to this point.

I also like San Francisco. I know it’s only been two weeks, but I could see myself staying here after graduation next spring rather than going back to San Diego.

Corbin and I have even been getting along, although he’s gone more than he’s home, so I’m sure that has everything to do with it.

I smile, finally feeling like I’ve found my place, and I open the door to the apartment. My smile fades as soon as it meets the eyes of three other guys—only two of whom I recognize. Miles is standing in the kitchen, and the married ass**le from the elevator is sitting on the couch.

Why the hell is Miles here?

Why the hell are anyof them here?

I glare at Miles as I kick off my shoes and drop my purse on the counter. Corbin isn’t due back for two more days, and I was looking forward to the peace and quiet tonight so I could get some studying done.

“It’s Thursday,” Miles says when he sees the scowl on my face, like the day of the week is supposed to be some sort of explanation. He’s watching me from his position in the kitchen. He can see I’m not happy.

“So it is,” I reply. “And tomorrow is Friday.” I turn to the other two guys sitting on Corbin’s couch. “Why are you all in my apartment?”

The blond, lanky guy immediately stands up and walks over to me. He extends his hand. “Tate?” he asks. “I’m Ian. I grew up with Miles. I’m a friend of your brother’s.” He points to the elevator guy, who is still seated on the couch. “This is Dillon.”

Dillon gives me a nod but doesn’t bother speaking. He doesn’t have to. His shit-eating grin says enough about what he’s thinking right now.

Miles walks back into the living room and points to the television. “This is kind of a thing we do some Thursdays if either of us is home. Game night.”

I don’t care if it’s their thing. I have homework.

“Corbin isn’t even home tonight. Can’t you do this at your apartment? I need to study.”

Miles hands Dillon a beer and then looks back at me. “I don’t have cable.” Of course you don’t.“And Dillon’s wife doesn’t let us use his place.” Of course she doesn’t.

I roll my eyes and walk to my bedroom, slamming the door unintentionally.

I change out of my scrubs and pull on a pair of jeans. I grab the shirt I slept in last night and just get it over my head when someone knocks on the door. I swing it open almost as dramatically as I slammed it earlier.

He’s so tall.

I didn’t realize how tall he was, but now that he’s standing in my doorway—filling it—he seems really tall. If he were to wrap his arms around me right now, my ear would press against his heart. Then his cheek would rest comfortably on top of my head.

If he were to kiss me, I’d have to tilt my face up to meet his, but it would be nice, because he would probably wrap his arms around my lower back and pull me to him so that our mouths would come together like two pieces of a puzzle. Only they wouldn’t fit very well, because they are most definitely not two pieces from the samepuzzle.