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“Corey.” I grab his hand. “Stay. I’m fine.”
“You sure?” He sits back down, tugs on his turtleneck sweater. “Okay, sweet cheeks, then spill. Did you go through with that terrible idea? Tell me you didn’t. I’ve been having nightmares about it ever since.”
Nightmares, huh. Like me.
“I did, and before you say it,” I stop him with a slap on the leg, “it was fine. I’m fine, so stop your worrying.”
Okay, I’m lying, but him fretting over me isn’t going to help things, and Corey knows. He’s the only person who knows what happened on that night, apart from Ethel and her folks. Heck, even my folks don’t know everything about it.
So I really don’t need him fussing over me any more than he already is. Stressing. He doesn’t handle stress well—which is why he doesn’t date.
Or so he claims.
“So you had sex with this escort?” Fascination replaces the worry in his gaze, and I lean back against the cushions, torn between irritation and the urge to laugh.
“That’s your first question, after finding out I went through with my plan?”
“Well, that was the number one stipulation of your plan, as I recall.” His expression turns contemplative. “Get over the fear of men, and touching, and above all sex. Am I wrong?”
No, he’s not, which is kind of annoying, because right now the last thing I want to talk about is Riot and that disastrous evening.
Even more so because my next meeting with him is tonight and I’m not sure I’m ready. I don’t have any idea what to expect, or how I will react to it.
I shiver.
“We didn’t have sex,” I whisper, and I don’t care if I sound defeated, because this is Corey, who knows me well. “But that’s okay. Maybe I’ll think of another way to fix it.”
Fix myself.
“Oh sweetie.” He sighs. “Bryan has an amazing therapist. He swears by this woman. Let me get you her phone number.”
“Bryan, huh? Wasn’t it Jaxon last week?”
“Jaxon is history.” Corey waves a hand back and forth dismissively as he scrolls through the contacts on his cell phone.
“You said he was hot.”
“He was. The fire can’t burn forever, though.”
“So this is how it is, always? You think you love someone and then it all dies out?”
“Love?” He looks up, a confused look on his face. “Were we talking about love? No, hon, this is just lust.”
Right. “I know. I just…” I swallow hard. “Don’t you ever wonder if you’ll ever find someone you can settle down with? Someone you can trust, someone you’ll want for all time?”
He whistles. “Whoa. Careful with those words, honey. Settle down? Trust? For all time? They’re not in my vocabulary.”
“But why, Corey? Why not? Look around you. So many happy endings. You’re a nice, intelligent, handsome guy. What prevents you from finding true love?”
“And more hard words.” He winces. “I’m not made for relationships, Pax. For love. You know that.”
Do I? He’s an amazing friend. From his stories, he’s great in bed. So what’s the problem? I keep getting the feelin
g there’s something in his past that’s stopping him from having a real relationship, that pulls him back whenever things get real. I wish he could talk to me about it. I mean, he knows all about my issues.
“If you’re done psychoanalyzing my nonexistent love life,” he waggles his brows at me, “check your phone. I texted you the number of the therapist. Give her a try, why don’t you? She deals with sexual traumas.”
My turn to wince. “Corey, that wasn’t—”
