Sex Addict (25 page)

Why had she come back into his life now? He’d mentioned to Dr. Glover that she had an agenda, but did he really believe that? Part of him did. The other—

A knock on his door had him jerking his head in that direction. No one had been buzzed up, so it had to be a neighbor.
 

Thump thump.
And clearly it wasn’t the neighbor next door currently on the receiving end of a different sort of pounding. The knock sounded again, and Evan stood up and kicked a pair of shoes out of his path as he headed for the front door. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

After unlatching the chain, he swung open the door. His eyes went wide, and an “Oh fuck” left his lips before he grabbed hold of the frame and tried to push the door shut again.
 

A steel-toed boot wedged itself in the jamb, and as a firm hand on the outside pushed the door open, Evan found himself face to face with Troy Spencer.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

Evan dropped his hand and stepped aside as Jennifer,
no, fuck
, Reagan’s brother walked inside.
 

“Friends, are we?” Evan asked, keeping a wary eye on the man he hadn’t seen in two decades. “Does that mean I’m
not
about to get a punch in the face?”

Troy stopped at the end of the small hall and looked back in his direction. “I don’t know, do you deserve one?”

Evan shut the door and made his way toward yet another ghost from his past. He would recognize Troy anywhere, with his dark, closely cropped hair that was almost the exact same cut it’d been during grade school. The only difference about him now was the size of the guy. He’d always been tall, but shit, Evan didn’t remember him being built like a brick house. Where it’d taken him several weeks to piece together who Reagan was, one glimpse at Troy and memories came tumbling back.
 

“I don’t know. Have you spoken to your sister lately?” Evan asked.

“Actually, I just came from J’s place.”

J.
As the familiar nickname echoed through his head, it was just another reminder that Reagan wasn’t who she’d said she was. Deciding to hedge his bets, in case this was a random visit, Evan slid his hands into his jeans pockets.

“And how is Reagan?” He walked past Troy and into his kitchen, hoping to appear nonchalant, when he felt anything but. “Do you want a drink?”

“No, I—” Troy stopped talking as a loud thump hit the wall, and a
“Yes. Yes. Oh fuck yes”
filtered through his apartment. “Is that what I think it is?”

Evan opened his fridge and looked over his shoulder at his old friend. “If you think it’s a woman getting her brains fucked out, then yes, it’s exactly what you think it is. Beer?”

Troy’s face was comical as his eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “Uh, no thanks. How do you guys live in the city? I swear, this place would drive me fucking crazy. How about we go grab a beer? There’s got to be a happy hour somewhere around here, right?”

Evan shut the fridge door and made his way back to where Troy was still standing.

“You sure you aren’t going to drive me somewhere and kick my ass?”

“You keep asking me questions like that, Rocky, and I’m going to think you’ve done something to deserve it. Now, do you want to go grab a beer or not?”

Now that’s not a name I’ve heard for a while. Surely if he’s reverting to nostalgia, he’s not planning to knife me in an alley.
Evan snagged his keys off the kitchen counter and shrugged. “Why the hell not?”
 

* * *

A WHISKEY SHOT and two beers later, and Evan’s shoulders had finally relaxed. They’d circled around the hard topics, catching up instead on the latest Mets lineup (verdict: another losing year), arguing over which Pink Floyd album was better, and Troy’s family. He’d married their classmate, Wendy, and popped out two kids already. For some reason, it blew Evan’s mind that they were old enough to actually have families of their own. A stir of longing in his gut had him taking another swig of his beer. Troy seemed like he was in a good place. Steady job, the wife, two kids, and the damn white picket fence.
 

And where am I? Sitting in a bar, single, and wondering if my last date’s brother is about to knock me out at any minute. On the plus side, at least I have a steady job and don’t want to take the waitress out the back and fuck her through the wall.

“You might have guessed by now I want to talk to you about J.”

Yeah, no shit.
“You mean you didn’t drive all the way into the city to shoot the shit with me and catch up on old times? That hurts, Troy. It really hurts.”

“Yeah, it hurts so much you haven’t bothered looking me up in over twenty years.”

As Troy’s words sank in, their past, and the wrongs his family had done to his friends, came barreling back into Evan’s mind. When he’d been carted off to live with his grandparents, he’d been upset that he’d had to leave his friends behind. But later, as an adult, when the truth of what had gone down became public knowledge, he felt a deep sense of guilt over his parents’ betrayal of those he’d come to think of as a second family.
How could I call him, knowing what I’d done? No, not what I’d done. What my fucking parents had done.

“People drift apart,” he ended lamely.
 

Troy’s brow winged up and he lifted his beer bottle to take a swig. “That’s your story?”

“Yep, and I’m sticking to it.”

“Fair enough, then,” Troy said, and took a peanut out of the bowl sitting between them. He popped it in his mouth and then turned his head toward Evan. “Let’s talk about J.”

And here we go…

“She was in pretty rough shape when I saw her earlier.”

Evan cursed. “I never wanted to make her cry.”

“Oh.” Troy chuckled slightly. “You didn’t. By rough, I meant she was sitting at home shooting vodka.”

Evan shuddered at the thought of that.
 

“Care to tell me what happened between the two of you?”

“Not really,” Evan said, and then glanced at Troy out of the corner of his eye. “But I have a feeling you won’t take no for an answer.”

“You’d be right about that.”

Evan picked at the label of his beer and then pushed back in his seat. “Let’s just say…I didn’t realize Reagan was little Jenny Spencer until very recently.”

“And that would make a difference, why…?”

“It’s just a little suspicious. Hell, I thought the gorgeous woman I took back to my apartment that first night was just someone random, and come to find out, it’s Jen. The girl from the family my parents fucked over.”

“Wait a second—are you telling me you took my baby sister home the first night you met her?”

“What? Oh…no, I mean…well, technically, but that doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that she sought me out on purpose. She knew who I was, arranged the job at Kelman, and has been playing me this whole fucking time.”

Troy shook his head and laughed. Took a swig of his beer and then laughed some more. “You’re kidding, right? You think she’s got some malicious intent here? This is the girl that followed you around like a puppy when we were younger. She worshipped the ground you walked on. Still does, probably, but don’t tell her I said that.”

“Uh…are you trying to tell me that Reagan’s been doing all this to what? Get back into my life? That seems a little extreme.”

“Speaking of extremists, I don’t want you to think this little chat we’re having is me giving you my blessing or anything.”

Evan frowned and opened his mouth to ask what the fuck Troy thought he needed his blessing for in the first place, but then his old buddy continued.

“I know you have a shit ton of baggage you need to clean up, dump out, or do whatever it is you’re doing to fix it. But J…she’s a good girl, Evan. She’s grown into an amazing woman, one any lucky bastard would be proud to call theirs.” He paused and sized him up where he sat, and for the first time since they’d arrived, Evan felt self-conscious. “For some reason, she’s set her sights back on you. The question is, are you going to man up, or be a chump and walk away?”

Though the chump option sounded like the easiest way to go, the thought of anyone else touching Reagan made Evan want to strangle the anonymous fucker with his bare hands.

“From the look on your face, I’m assuming walking away is unlikely, so I will only say this once, Rocky. Don’t fuck this up. You hurt my little sister, and there are not enough whiskey shots and beer chasers in this world to make us good. You got me?”

Evan tipped back the rest of his beer and raised his bottle. “Yeah, I got you.”

* * *

REAGAN ANSWERED HER phone the second her brother’s number lit up the screen.
 

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” she asked, only half joking.
 

Troy’s laugh filtered through the line. “Nah, but he’s in pretty bad shape in the alley behind Cedric’s Bar.”

“What?”
 

“Relax. He’s home and all tucked in.”

She sank onto her couch and curled her legs underneath her. “Sure he is. Where are you?”

“On my way home. Just wanted to let you know.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Where did you go? What happened?”

“We just grabbed some beers and shot the shit. You know. Guy stuff.”

“Bullshit. What did you talk about?”

“The Mets.”

“And?”

“Wendy and the kids.”

“And?”

“Pink Floyd.”

“Jesus Christ, Troy,” she said, ready to chuck her phone out the window. “What else?”

“Well, he did mention your first date, if you want to call it that.”

“Our first date? At the restaurant in Brooklyn?”

“Oh no, J. At his apartment.”

“His apar—”
Oh God.
Heat crept into her cheeks, and she mentally cursed that jackass. Pulling the phone away from her ear, she bit down hard on her lip and counted to ten. What the hell was Evan playing at talking about their sex life?

“J? Jen, you still there?” The sound of her brother’s voice had her putting the phone back to her ear.
 

“I’m here. And he must’ve been thinking of one of the many other women he’s brought back to his apartment.”

“Cut the shit, little sis. I really don’t wanna hear about all that.”

“That makes two of us.”

“You know,” Troy said, “it was good to catch up with him. I always wondered what happened after he moved away.”

“Troy…” she said with a growl.

“Yes?”

She threw her hand up. “Did he talk about
me
? Fuck, give me something here.”

“It’s not all about you, Jen,” her brother playfully admonished. “But yeah, he might’ve mentioned something. I can’t say what, though, since I’m sworn by guy code not to say anything.”

“What? What about sibling code? Blood thicker than bros or hos or whatever the saying is.”

“Sorry, my lips are sealed.”

“I’m telling Mom.”

“Too old for spankings now. Guess you’ll live.”

“I’m not sure
you
will when I get done with you,” Reagan said, kicking her legs out in front of her and pouting.

“I get the impression that Evan’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Why?” she asked, clinging to the comment like it was a lifeline. “What makes you say that?”

There was a long pause, and as she scooted forward on the couch, she brought one of her hands to her mouth to bite on her thumbnail.
 

“Let’s just say when I mentioned walking away, he looked as if he wanted to deck me for even putting it out there as an option. I don’t know everything that went on between the two of you, but I think he’s starting to realize just how much he cares. Hang in there, J. The old Rocky, he’s in there somewhere.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get the words past the lump in her throat, Troy had already ended the call.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

MONDAY MORNING CAME around, after what had been the longest weekend Reagan could remember. Even though Crystal had forced her out of the apartment for what she called “shopping therapy,” all she could think about was what awaited her when she went back to work. Between that, and checking her phone every five minutes for a missed call or message, she’d practically driven her best friend crazy.

As she stepped into the elevator at the building that housed Kelman Corporations, the uneasy flutters in her stomach warred with the small flicker of hope in her chest. Evan would be there today. Would he talk to her? Look at her? Give her death glares and tell her what an awful human being she was? Or would he act like nothing happened at all?

Jesus, pull it together, Reagan. Stop overthinking.

Stepping onto the twelfth floor, she was greeted by a smiling face.

“Good morning, Ms. Spencer. Still loving the hair,” Amy said as she handed her a stack of messages. “Mr. Kelman asked to see you when you arrived.”

“Thanks, Amy.” Reagan flipped through the messages as she walked to Bill’s office.
 

She hadn’t spoken to him since he’d found her in a crumpled heap in her office days ago. Nothing needed to be said as she’d gathered her things, and he’d told her to take the rest of the week off.
 

She stopped outside of his office, and hesitated for just a moment. Brushing her left palm down the side of her skirt, she straightened her back, mentally preparing herself to walk into his office with her head held high. No way was he going to see the disaster he’d sent home last week. She’d done everything she could to get rid of her and bring back the strong, professional woman he’d hired all those years ago.

She knocked on the door and waited for him to respond. He called for her to come in, and she took a deep breath before turning the handle and stepping inside.

“Reagan. You’re looking lovely this morning. Come in, come in. Sit down,” Bill said from where he was seated behind his desk.
 

“How was your weekend?” he asked when she took the chair opposite him, and the hesitant look on his face made her smile.

“It was fine, Bill,” she said, and then leaned forward to whisper, “I’m fine too.”