Page 30 of Trash Talk
Chapter 19
Ruby- the same week
Knox has been ignoring me for days. He cancelled our dinner plans on Monday. And stayed in his locked office Tuesday. I know he was in there, and I know he saw me out here; there are cameras in the hallway and the monitor is in the office. Told me he was busy on Wednesday—I mean it was Fourth of July. He had plans with Gramps; they do something every year. But it doesn’t change the fact that he could’ve invited me. We’re not dating, so I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m irritated. Okay, I’m pissed. And sexually frustrated. And it doesn’t answer the question of why he’s avoiding me. I’ve had a busy week too and I still managed to call and text. He messaged earlier saying he’d be unavailable this week, but he’d make it up to me this weekend.
If we miss this whole week, we’ll only have four days left of our arrangement. And I know I thought of cutting our time together short, but now I want to savor every last minute we have. Maybe we can tack five days on to the end since we missed this week. Sheesh, that sounds desperate AF. But we had a deal! And I’m used to getting sex on the regular now. I’m also used to talking things over with Knox on the regular, having dinner together, waking up with his warm body pressed against mine.
None of those things were part of our original deal, but I’ve let things slide. And now I’ve gotten used to them. I like them. I like him. He’s just such a good listener. And he gives good advice. And great back rubs. And he makes excellent gyros. What the hell am I going to do when it’s all over next week? I blow out a frustrated breath that catches Em’s attention. Poppy’s been busy with her new man, and I haven’t talked to HK in months, so Em’s still the only one who knows about us. So, it’s her ass sitting next to me at the bar tonight.
We helped Lana with a beautiful vow renewal at the vineyard this afternoon, so we felt like we deserved some drinks for our effort. I usually work from home on Thursdays (it’s a slow day), but I couldn’t just leave the bride hanging. She was sweet and it was a gorgeous day, and it wasn’t her fault her photographer got a flat tire in a place with no cell reception. A lot of places out here don’t get it. It’s why most of us still have land lines.
When he arrived in the middle of a swinging after party, looking haggard with his equipment bag thrown haphazardly over his shoulder; I knew the story would be good. (Apparently, he’s allergic to poison ivy, scared shitless of coyotes and has a raging case of plantar fasciitis— so the fact that he trekked four miles with all his gear through predator-infested woods and still made it in time to do at least part of his job, was amazing to me— that’s dedication folks.) I gave him a plate of food, a bottle of champagne and asked how I could assist him for the next couple hours.
I’m tired. But I needed a drink. And I needed to see Knox. He just got behind the bar, and he looks agitated about something. I just want to talk, surely, it’s not me that’s put him in such a sour mood. Maybe he’s ready to end things and he doesn’t know how I’ll react. He’s the one that pushed for more time, not me. Maybe I should just end this now. That thought sends a shiver down my spine. We might just be having hate-sex, but I’m not ready for it to be over. Okay, I’ll admit that’s not exactly true. If I’m completely honest, it hasn’t been hate-sex since that third week. We’ve shared some very sweet moments. My chest aches at the thought of him being done with me. Oh hell, I’ve caught feelings.
Does he feel the same? Is he ignoring me because he knows, and it’s easier than telling me it’s over? But if it’s not about me, then why won’t he meet my eyes? Why is he ignoring me? I have to know.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” I look where Em’s eyeing the corner of the bar. My thoughts exactly. “I can’t believe this. I was fucking rooting for him.”
Knox walks by us and stands in front of Brit. Bends over the bar and whispers something. I can’t see his face; I can only see her smug ass smile as he leans in. What in the actual fuck is going on here? A sharp sense of déjá vu hits me. Please God, not again. I can’t do this again.
Brit says something back to him and brushes her fingers through his hair. I have the sudden urge to slam her face into the bar. Knox. Is. Mine.
Well; you know what I mean, we’re together right now. We’re exclusive for the time being. So, if he’s done with me and wants to go back to her, he better damn well have the balls to have that conversation with me. Before he starts anything with that hussy. He pulls her hand away from his face but gives it a gentle squeeze before placing it back on the bar.
The wave of jealousy that hits almost knocks me over. Oh, shit. I think I’m gonna be sick. My whole body is on fire. And before I do something crazy (like jerk her out the door via her long ponytail), I hop off my stool and walk to the bathroom. Thankfully, there isn’t a line tonight. I walk in and splash my face with cold water; it does nothing to calm me. I feel the sting of tears behind my eyes; my nose starts burning and my throat’s closing up. I will not cry. I swore the last time I cried over Knox Teller would be the last. Deep breaths. More cold water.
I don’t know how long I’m in there, but when I come out of the restroom, I’m moderately composed. My hair is wet, my face is flushed, and my heartbeat is still erratic, but I’m better than I was when I went in. Well, until I sit back down beside Em and she tells me Knox left five minutes ago with Brit. “Apparently, it’s not what it looks like, and he’ll call later and explain everything.”
My eye is twitching; I think I’m having a heart attack. Or a stroke. Something definitely isn’t right. It’s at this precise moment my déjá vu hits full force. I’ve felt this feeling before. The last time I realized I was in love with someone I couldn’t have. Someone who belonged to someone else. How could I have done this again? Let him in? I let myself fall for Knox. Again. It happened so gradually— us betting each other again, talking trash, laughing together— and I didn’t even see it ‘til just now. I can’t believe we’re here again. At the same freakin’ crossroads. How does Brittany keep beating me to the punch? How does she always know the perfect time to strike? The perfect weapon to use. I’ve got to get the fuck out of here.
I get in the back of our Uber and Em grabs my hand. “I’m sorry Ruby. I thought this time was it for y’all. I’m sorry I pushed you. It’s my fault.”
“It’s my own fault. I really thought I could compartmentalize. How could I…” I can’t finish. My heart is aching, and my throat is so tight with unshed tears I can’t speak anymore.
Em’s voice is soft and soothing. “Rubes, I love you. But sometimes you really are blind. You’ve loved him since you were kids. And vice versa. You both date other people when you think you can’t have each other. You go for Ken-look-a-likes, and he either goes back to Brit or has a meaningless hook-up to blow off steam. It’s easy and neither of you have to deal with the pain of not being with the one you truly love. But damn, it’s taken a long time for y’all to get back on the same page. I thought you’d finally made it. It’s why I pushed so hard. I knew eventually, you’d realize your real feelings for him. And I already knew Knox’s for you. I thought y’all could finally get your shit together and live happily ever after. After all this time, you both deserve some happiness.”
I sit in shock. I had my suspicions, but the level of my best friend’s deception is still shocking. Em played me. I know she was just trying to help, and I shouldn’t be mad. She did help. But I am mad. More at myself than her, that I waited so long and wasted so much time. God, I’m an idiot.
“Besides, it’s partly my fault that you broke things off with Knox that second time, and I feel terrible about it.”
“How was that your fault, Em?”
“I was so wrapped up in my own pain, I wasn’t there for you. I could feel Graham pulling away that week, and I was dealing with the end of us and Cyrus’s death, and I didn’t even see you. I should’ve seen you, Ruby. I should’ve been there for you. I was selfish. I didn’t even snap out of it after I knew y’all had broken things off. I ran away to California to nurse my own wounds and left you here alone. I was a shitty friend, and I’m sorry. I just thought that maybe I could make it right. Fix my mistake. Fix your mistake.”
All that anger is quickly morphing into sadness at all the time I’ve stolen from us, what Knox and I could’ve had together now if I hadn’t been so foolish. So prideful. So stubborn. So scared. It might be too late for me to do anything about it now. But I’m not giving up. Knox fought for me; it’s only fair that I do the same for him now.
“I don’t know why he left with Brit. He definitely didn’t seem happy about it. And I don’t know why he’s been ghosting you. But please, Ruby, give him a chance to explain before you shut him out again. I know it’s hard, and it looks bad, but you’ve had misunderstandings before, this could just be another one. He’s always been so patient with you, but this time it has to be you. Wait him out. Give him a real chance.” I nod, thankful that I have such a good friend. Sure, she tricked me, but Em’s always looked out for me. Always wanted the best for me. She’d never do something crazy like that otherwise. I squeeze her neck tightly.
“I need a plan, Em. Brit isn’t taking what’s mine again. I’ll give him time if he needs it, but I’m not letting Knox go. Not without a fight.”
“There’s my girl. I’ve got your back, Rubes. Always.” I sink my head back onto her shoulder and pray he still wants me. Because if he doesn’t, this is going to suck huge donkey balls.
I haven’t slept well for the past two nights. I cried myself to sleep Thursday night, and woke myself several times sobbing last night, so the fact that someone is knocking on my door at freaking 7 am on Saturday morning has me losing my shit. I yank my front door open. “What?”
I wish I’d allowed some time for a robe or a mirror or a toothbrush or something because it’s Knox. He’s standing in front of me wearing the same t-shirt and jeans he had on at the bar the other night, his eyes look tired and his hair is a mess. It looks like we may have spent the past couple nights doing the same shit, so I know my hair has to be a disaster. I can’t look good right now; I’d bet money my eyes are puffy, and my face is red and swollen from crying. And I’m pretty sure there’s dried up drool next to my mouth from when I finally did get some sleep. Despite all that, his eyes devour me. I look down and realize I’m only wearing a tank and boy shorts. Not that he hasn’t seen me butt-ass naked before, and in several compromising positions, but right now I feel stripped bare.
“Can I come in?” His voice is hoarse and gravelly. He looks miserable; I don’t want to add to that, and I’d rather not have an audience (Em and Charlie are both early risers), so I wave him inside and close the door behind us.
