Page 52 of Just Between Us

“Breathe it in,” Liam says quietly.

The smoke is warm and faintly sweet as I suck it into my lungs. My pulse climbs into my throat and I’m acutely, painfully aware of how little space exists between us right now.

Liam pulls back, watching me. “Well?”

I let out a breath that’s half laugh, half something else entirely. “I think I need to try that myself.” I pluck the joint from his fingers with more confidence than I feel. “It only counts if I’m the one actually doing it. Bucket list rules.”

“Bucket list rules,” he agrees.

I bring it to my lips and inhale, managing to hold it a full second before a strangled cough rips through me. I beat my chest, handing it back with watering eyes.

Liam takes a smooth, practiced hit and says nothing. But he’s smiling.

When it’s my turn again, I’m ready. The warmth hits my chest but no cough follows

“This,” I whisper, staring up at the ceiling as the edges of the room begin to glow, “was a very good idea.”

Liam glances over, a smirk on his face and he takes another hit of the joint. “Low-key illegal ideas usually are.”

Cassieand I are lying side by side on my living room floor, her pinky hooked with mine, watching my ceiling fan go round and round. Cassie’s head is actually moving in small circles, following the spinning blades. When she texted and suggested this, I actually laughed out loud. My mind immediately flashed a mental image of what a high Cassie James would be like, and honestly? My imagination wasn’t too far off.

“Do you ever feel sad for the empty hangers in your closet?”

I snort a laugh. “Sad for them? Can’t say I have.” She flops onto her side, propping up on an elbow. “You don’t think they feel left out?” Her voice drops into a tone of genuine concern. “They aren’t getting a chance to serve their purpose.”

“I think they’re just enjoying the break,” I say, still staring at the ceiling. “They’re on vacation. No heavy coats to hold, no cheap shirts from the thrift store. Just hanging out…literally.”

She considers this for a long, silent beat, like what I said actually makes any kind of sense. “A vacation. I like that. I hope my hangers are in Key West.”

We fall silent, but when Mutt lets out a snore, Cassie speaks again, her words coming out slow and dreamlike.

“Do you ever think…dogs are just…better than people?”

“Oh, all the damn time.”

“I trust Mutt more than I trust most men,” she adds solemnly.

I press a hand to my chest in mock offense. “Wow. Tell me how you really feel. Betrayed in my own home.”

“You’re on probation. Mutt is not.”

Turning my head to see her, I ask, “For what crime?”

She seems to think about it, brow furrowing as if sifting through a stack of evidence against me. “Being mysterious.”

Cassie has questions, of course she does, and I’ve left her in the dark. It’s not fair, but it’s all I can do right now. My feelings for her are jumbling my emotions to the point I had to physically distance myself these last few weeks. The morning she heard me play, she saw too much. It was evident in the way she eyed me with a shrewd assessment the rest of the morning.

I let out a long, tired exhale. “Guilty.”

“Is it a lonely crime?” she asks softly.

Lonely doesn’t begin to describe it. When I get this way, I’m a prisoner trapped in my own mind, searching for anything that might get me out of my head. At least this time I poured my energy into the foundation. I didn’t fall into random women’s beds just to feel something other than this. It’s a small win, but I’ll take it.

“Sometimes,” I admit, my voice a little more than a whisper. “But the company tonight is top tier.”

Even high, Cassie must sense I’m ready to move on to other topics, because she unhooks her pinky from mine and clambers to her feet.

“I need another Hot Pocket. Or two.”