“Mo? Bethanne said you took Mo on your summer road trip two years ago. Is this the same Mo?”

“Yep.”

“So … you and Mo were a thing?”

He shrugs, dumping coconut milk into the pan along with a ton of different measured out spices. “Jace had surgery on his shoulder that summer, and Mo had a fighter in L.A. she wanted to check out. It was last minute. We just decided to drive out here together.”

I return an easy nod and fake smile when he glances over at me. “That uh … didn’t exactly answer my question.”

“Were we a thing?” He shrugs again.

I officially hate shrugs.

“I guess you’d say friends with benefits when it served a mutual … need.”

I feel nauseous, probably from a bad case of delusion. In spite of one incident after another, I felt pretty damn special on our trip, like I was the first woman Jake had taken on his sacred summer trip. I thought Mo was a guy. Stupid, stupid me.

“Maureen?”

He nods. “She hates her name.”

“And Jace is okay with you using his sister for these mutual needs?”

“We’re adults. I’m not jerking her around, making lifetime promises. It’s sex. He’s not exactly a saint either.”

It’s sex. It is sex. Not was sex.

“So … when they come visit … do you uh …”

Jake turns the gas burner to simmer and covers the pan. “Do I what?” He wipes his hands and tosses the dishtowel over his shoulder.

I roll my eyes. Why does he have to be such a dick about this? He knows damn well what I’m implying. “Meet needs, Jake. Does she sleep in your bed and suck your dick?” Pressing the heels of my hands to my forehead, I sigh. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?”

Letting my hands flop to my sides, I give him a wide-eyed look. “Why? WHY?” Heat burns my cheeks as rage crawls up my chest, constricting my throat. “Because we are terrible together! Because you say terrible things to me. Because you’re leaving. Because I can’t stop thinking about you, but I need to stop thinking about you! Because you can’t figure out the three fucking words that you need to say to me. And because next Friday you’ll be in Milwaukee with Mo in your bed!”

Jake’s head inches back as his eyes widen like saucers.

Son … of a bitch. I have done so well with this. After the “makeup incident” at the rehearsal, I put myself together. Stood up for myself. I slipped a bit when I let him kiss me here last week, but I quickly righted that wrong.

I’ve fallen headfirst off the wagon.

“Why are you here, Ave? It’s not to iron my jeans or help me pack.” He steps closer.

I step back. We cannot be close. Our brains shut down when we get too close.