Page 74 of Trailer Trash

My gut twists. Okay. He’s not some religious guy peddling from house to house. He knows her.

“Evan, what are you doing here?” she says.

Their voices aren’t perfectly clear, but this trailer’s single-pane windows and thin walls don’t hide much.

“Did you like my flowers?” he asks.

Flowers?

“I was… surprised.”

He smiles, making his dimples crater. “The card was true. I’ve been sober an entire year. I promised myself if I made it that long, I’d come see you.” He does a spin.

“Congratulations,” she says sincerely, quietly.

“Harlow, I’m sorry it took so long to get my head out of my ass. It wasn’t until we broke up that I realized how lucky I was to have someone like you—”

Something inside me breaks. I’m moving, through the room, down the narrow hall, striding.

“I took you for granted, and—”

I step behind her and grip the door’s edge, opening it wider. She startles.

I’m completely naked.

She gasps and covers her mouth.

“Morning,” I say coolly, looking down at the bastard who is ruining an otherwise perfect morning.

Evan keeps his eyes off me, unsure where to look or how to respond. His cheeks are red and his well rehearsed speech is in the trash where it belongs.

“Killian,” Harlow hisses. “Go put some clothes on!”

“No.” I fold my arms, keeping my eyes on Evan. “Let him see what made you drool last night.”

That does it. Evan heads for his car, speechless.

“Evan, I’m sorry!” she calls out, maybe out of decency, but she doesn’t chase after him.

She shuts the door and faces me. “What the hell?”

“I woke up to your ex professing his love to you. What the fuck do you think I’m gonna do? Put on my clothes and hide like a bitch?”

“No, I just. Last night was…”

She looks at her feet, searching for words. I don’t help her.

“Never mind.”

I shrug and walk down the hall, dress, then stare at the empty bed and tangled sheets.

I did it. I really fucked her. I’m good. I got what I wanted. Things will be much easier now.

“Well, uh,” Harlow says appearing out of thin air and snapping me from my thoughts. “Do you need a phone charger to order a rideshare, or can I drive you to your car?” She picks up my phone and hands it to me.

“I’ll get a ride.”

I order one, then head for the front door.