Chasing the Sun (A Rebound Novella Book 2) (11 page)

Two wonderful women. Very different, but the same in the ways that counted—intelligence, kindness, a fierce spirit. He felt like a whiny bitch, there were worse things than having two exceptional women interested in him.

But it really wasn’t that great. He would have to hurt one or both and it would hurt him to hurt them. He was going home in a month, so did it matter? Trey had become the kind of friend he’d wanted long term, but now was there anything to salvage? She was hurting and he wasn’t sure they could come back from this.
 

Rory was amazing and they had great chemistry. He’d originally thought she just wanted a fling, but something had shifted. He didn’t think she was in love with him or anything, but the looks she’d been giving him, the smiles, the touches. All that “you are the sun” stuff. But she was also a free spirit and very passionate, so he wouldn’t be surprised if she burned hot and them flickered out with all the men she slept with.

Somewhere out there Trey was sad and maybe a little heartbroken, and the thought made him sick.
 

Chapter Twenty-One

He pounded the bag, right, left, right left. The ache and strain was welcome. The uneasy night’s sleep made him struggle for every punch, but he pushed through with the knowledge that maybe if he punched hard enough he could untangle the thoughts in his head. David Grohl’s fast paced guitar urged him to hit harder.
 

Left, right, left, right, upper cut.
 

He made no move to slow down.
 

When his back muscles started to burn and twitch, a mournful baritone sounded in his ears. “Take Me to Church” was a song of benediction, forbidden love, pain, and longing. It made him want to scream, fuck, maybe even cry. But no, not today. Today he would take out his frustration on the stuffed piece of red vinyl swaying from a metal chain in an empty gym.
 

The song ended and he stalled the swinging bag with a wide embrace, his breath far from being caught. He scrunched his eyes shut—the sweat dripped down his face, down his bare chest and back. He would hurt tomorrow.
 

The answer hadn’t magically come to him during his barrage of punches, but he sure felt better. Add a long nap and he should almost feel normal.

He’d expected Trey to call him or send him a self deprecating text, something, anything. But four days and nothing…

It was Thursday and he was waiting in front of the long line of food trucks by his office. They met here every Thursday. He was sweating despite the shade from the trees. He walked up the the section of
 
pale picnic benches, where she always waited for him, but she was nowhere to be found. Maybe she was running late. He clung to this thought as he shot her a text message.

I’m here. The chicken and waffles truck smells awesome.

Silence.
 

Come on you can’t stay mad at me for ever! I’ll buy you one of those chocolate crepes you like.

Another ten minutes with no response.
 

He didn’t have much of an appetite, but in the spirit of tradition he chose something he’d yet to try. That was Trey’s idea—pick something different every time. If the person chose something and it turned out to be particularly heinous, the other would share their lunch. Neither wanted to share, so they learned to steer clear of the Vegan Vindaloo truck.

He decided to hit up Sabor, which happened to have killer Tex-Mex. He ordered the lunch special and grabbed a spot in a corner. He poked at his carne asada enchiladas with little enthusiasm and a lot of self pity. He ate, but didn’t taste, and half way through he tossed it in the trash. He felt a twinge of guilt for wasting all that food, his father would kill him.

“What? You’re just gonna leave without buying me my crepe?” a familiar voice with a soft twang called to his back.

He stopped and smiled, the tightness in his chest loosening.

He turned to find Trey standing a few feet away with a hand on her cocked hip. Her hair was piled on top of her head with a gauzy white top over shorts.

“The offer had a forty-five minute time limit, but I guess I can make an exception for groveling’s sake.”

“So this is how you grovel, huh? Giving an admitted chocoholic her fix.”

“Yes?”

“You don’t sound so sure of yourself, handsome.”

“Well, is it working?”

“Marginally.”

“Then, yes, this is how I grovel and whatever else you need me to do.”
 

He’d closed the gap between them, pulling her into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her citrus-scented curls.
 

He wasn’t apologizing for sleeping with Rory, but that Trey was hurt because of it.
 

Trey wrapped her arms around his waist and sighed.

“I know. That’s why I’m here. None of this is your fault…I’m sorry too.”

He pulled back.

“What for?”

“Well, for being all territorial about Rory. Having a meltdown in front of you. For acting casual about everything and then blindsiding you with all my emotional shit. For being a bad friend. …it wasn’t fair.” She’d counted each one off with her fingers. She always did that, he found it endearing.

“You aren’t a bad friend. You’re the exact opposite. You’ve made being here infinitely more bearable. Scratch that, you’ve made it unforgettable.”

“That’s nice and all, but I’m still standing here, crepe-free.”

He laughed and hooked her around the neck.
 

“Come on.”

That night he reclaimed his stool at the Royal. Things seemed back to normal and he was so relieved.
 
He hadn’t really understood the depth of his foul mood until it had lifted. Only people he really cared about had the ability to get him so twisted.

Trey set a frothy pint in front of him with a wink.

This was the first time he’d been in since his performance. It had gone well, but he was still surprised when so many people approached him, complimenting the set and asking if he was going to play again. The answer to that was no, but he appreciated the accolades. Several women came up and slipped him their numbers. What was it with chicks and musicians?

Trey grabbed one number clad napkin in particular and torched it with a lighter, right in front of him.

“Hey!”

“She has smelly cat,” she said flatly.

He laughed. “Oh, really?”
 

“Yeah, trust me. I can tell an unsavory bush from twenty paces.”
 

This time he choked on his beer.
 

“Trey, that sounds like a super power.”

“It is and you’re welcome,” she said and walked off.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ian walked behind a group of suits, their shoes making a collective clack on the cement floor. He glanced down and wished he’d given his own wingtips a polish. The museum build was finished save for a few final landscaping items being planted. The curator and her team were busy hanging and re-hanging paintings and photographs stretched across canvases. Today they were doing a preview, a dog and pony show for the investors and board of directors.

 
The owner of his architecture firm was toward the front of the pack as well as the VP of the construction company. Ian was in the back with the project engineer and project manager. As usual, the day to day guys were relegated to the flunky section trailing behind the guys with the check books and the fancy titles.
 

No skin off his nose.
 

He hated this part, but the invitation only opening was being held in a few days—he was excited for that. He was allotted four invitations each with a plus one, so he was able to include his mom and dad, Lucas and Viv, Trey, and Rory. He was taking Rory. Trey was going to meet him there. Neither his sister Tessa nor Maddie could make it. Maddie had called him that morning sounding like she was on death’s doorstep.

“I can make it, I should feel fine by Friday.” It was more of a prolonged groan than actual speech.

“Mads, you’ve been throwing up for 24 hrs and you still have a fever. I don’t think you will be up for driving down here by tomorrow.”

“Pffft. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry…oh shit—hold on a sec…bwuuuahhhh!” More vomiting noises and some spitting, then her struggling to pick up the phone. “Okay, that was wrong on soooo many levels. Really, I just re-enacted a scene from
The Exorcist
aaaand there may have been some of my lower intestine in that one.”

He laughed, but at the same time it made his stomach hurt. He leaned towards sympathetic vomiting.

“Maddie, you sound awful. Go back to bed.”

“Okay, getting in now…Ahhh fuck, that’s better…sorry I’m missing your big day. Take lots of pics…but I think I may be dead before I can see them.”

“You’re not gonna die, but I hope you have someone to take care of you. Is your sister in town?”
 

Huh. Mentioning Katrine, Maddie’s heartbreaking sister, didn’t make him want to punch a wall…progress.

“Yeah, she’s coming by later. She’s making me soup…always makes me feel better.” Her voice was starting to slur from exhaustion most likely brought on by projectile vomiting.
 

“Well, get some rest. I’ll call you in a few days.”

“K.”
 

He was pretty sure she just threw the phone on the floor without hitting the end button.
 

Ian leaned back in his desk chair, twirling a pencil. The two squirrels that inhabited the tree on the other side of the glass had been entertaining him daily since he arrived. They chased each other, their chirps becoming more maniacal as they rounded the trunk. He imagined they were married and the one that just got bit and bitch slapped by a little paw was most likely the husband.
Meerkat Manor
had nothin’ on these two. Yes, he watched Animal Planet—though no one knew it. Well, Trey busted him when she saw an episode of
Dogs 101
on his DVR.
 

What? He liked animals.

The furry couple had disappeared into the canopy of leaves, so Ian was forced to do some actual work. Elevations, cross sections, 3-D renderings, blah, blah, blah…No focus—lines started to blend and blur. He decided to pack it up and head to the site one last time. Speaking of packing it up, he had yet to decide when he was leaving. Theoretically, he could stay and work from this office as long as he wanted, so he had time to pack his things and say his goodbyes without a deadline. The thought of leaving this city and the people he’d met made him a little depressed, but he had to get back to his life. It was going to be strange going back without Ruby. It wouldn’t feel quite like home without her.
 

“You closing up shop, man?” his co-worker Mark asked. Mark Banks was a few years younger than Ian. His red hair was thick and perpetually sticking up in odd places. He said his hereditary cowlick was to blame.

“Yeah. I can’t concentrate for shit” Ian put his black computer bag on his shoulder. “See you guys at the opening, right?”

“Free booze?” Ben asked. He held one of three coveted intern positions. Ben was short, very slender, and of mixed Asian descent. Smart, funny, great taste in music, and was always up for a good time. They’d had many a pint together.

“Yes, Ben, open bar. But you can’t wear Converse.”

“What? Ahhh, man. Not even my black ones? Bummer.”

“I have got to see what all the fuss has been about, chief,” Mark said, cocking a thick eyebrow. “And I can’t wait to see what your date looks like.”

“Is it that hot little bartender you’re always hanging out with? Man, she’s got some serious curves—those cans!” Ben added. Ian gave him a look. “Sorry, Ian…she does, though,” Ben said sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders.

“Her name is Trey, and she
will
be there, but I’m bringing someone else.”

“Whoa, you doublin’ up? Nice…ah, to be good looking,” Mark teased. His own face, although not exactly ugly, was what one might call an acquired taste. But he was married, so his wife’s taste must be portly gingers with unruly hair.

“Trey’s just a friend.” The fact that they’d made each other moan was irrelevant.

“So, can you put in a good word for me, then?” Ben asked.

“Sure, man.” He hoped that didn’t sound as flat as it did in his head. Ben said yes under his breath, so he must not’ve picked up on Ian’s less than enthusiastic delivery. Mark rolled his eyes and threw a wad of paper at Ben’s head.

“What?” Ben asked

Ian shook his head and laughed. “Catch ya guys later.”
 

Ben and Mark said their see ya’s and then started bickering as Ian walked off.
 

He could add those two numb nuts to the list of people he’d miss.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ian’s nerves were a little frayed. This was a big night for him, the pinnacle of his career thus far. It was high profile, but his firm would be getting the accolades in the press, not him personally. That was more than alright with him. Industry and company recognition was all he really cared about, and the bolstered portfolio.

His parents had checked into their hotel, but were tired from their drive, so they were going to just meet him at the opening. Ian had a talk with his mother about Rory. She was just a girl he’d been seeing casually…and fucking frequently. He’d left off the second part. He didn’t want his mom getting any ideas, but it was probably a lost cause.

“She’s a singer, you say?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Opera?”

“No, Mom. She sings at local bars and such.”

“Like lounge, ohhh.” The way she said oh was like, ew.

He sighed.
 
“Anyway, she’s cool and it’s nothing serious.” He wasn’t sure what the status was, but downplaying for mom was a good idea. The events at hand had forced a meeting of the parents. Rory hadn’t seemed bothered by the fact, so he wasn’t sure why he was.

“Don’t get your boxers in a bunch, Ian Matthew. I was just asking.”

“Oh, okay, cuz it sure sounded a little on the judgmental side.”