Read Online Summer (Four Seasons #2) by Frankie Rose - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Frankie Rose
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course I am.” Luke Reid’s face shoves its way into my mind, making my eyes prick sharply. Oh, hell no. No crying over that bastard today. I grip hold of the steering wheel, inhaling deeply.
“What? What the hell are you addicted to, Avery?”
“Chocolate and the Vampire Diaries.”
“Fuck you, girlfriend. I’m addicted to class A opiates. I think that’s slightly different.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Compared to me, you’re a fully functional member of society. I’m the only fucked up one around here.”
“Oh, I assure you. I’m plenty fucked up, babe.” She must hear the tension in my voice. Morgan places her hand on my arm, rubbing gently.
“I’m sorry, chica. I’m being an asshole. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. It’s just…”
“He who shall not be named?”
“Yeah.” I swallow down the huge lump in my throat. It should feel better by now, shouldn’t it? It should hurt less. It’s been almost two months. You’d think I’d be over this by now, and yet I’m not. It just keeps getting worse and worse.
“All right. That’s it,” Morgan says. “Maybe we should scrap the pact for this evening and talk about it. About him . It might help you.” I made her swear a while back that she wouldn’t even mention his name, because she kept asking about him relentlessly and it really wasn’t helping.
“You are not getting out of your session by dredging up all of my crap, Morgan.”
“Not now. After this we can grab a burger or something.”
“I don’t know, Morgan. Talking about it just seems counterproductive.”
“Like me going to my sessions, you mean?”
Fuck. She has me there. “Morgan—”
“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll shut up about us going to Seabrook if you swear to vent when we’re done. Then we’ll be even.”
“All right. Sure, I’ll try.” At this point I’ll say anything just to get her ass into one of those seats. If I really don’t feel like rehashing every single Luke Reid related nightmare I’ve had since he vanished off the face of the earth, I can always renege later. Sue me.
Morgan turns the radio up, giving me another sad smile. I’m grateful for the break in the conversation. Another fifteen minutes pass, and Morgan grows more and more tense by the second as we draw closer to the counseling facility. By the time I pull up in the parking lot, her body is almost entirely rigid.
A small wave of guilt washes over me. I may give her a hard time but in the same vein, I hate that she has to do this.
I get out of the car and walk around to wait for her. She’s taking far too long, and her complexion looks pasty at best.
“Hey, how about this...” I slip my arm into hers as we head toward the yawning entrance of the vast building. “How about I put down that I’m addicted to sex toys? If I can keep a straight face the entire time, you have to buy lunch.”
A smile lifts her mouth. “Avery, you have absolutely no hope whatsoever of pulling that off.”
“Oh, ye of little faith. I can do this.”
“Wait. Are you really a sex addict? It’s ‘cause of Luke, isn’t it? I don’t blame you. I would have been addicted to his di—”
I slap her on the arm, an itching sensation crawling across my skin. I’m not ready to joke about sleeping with Luke yet. No way. “I said toys. Luke wasn’t a toy.” If he was, he would have been a brightly painted baseball bat that looked like it was really fun to play with, when in reality it was covered in barbed wire and had shards of glass embedded in the damn handle.
“I’m just saying.” Morgan dodges away from me, grinning, as I lunge at her, trying to slap her again. Her smile is contagious.
We walk into the air-conditioned building and sign in at the very prestigious-looking front desk. Morgan completes the paperwork required of her as I look around. The place looks rather empty until an older African-American guy opens the door closest to us.
“What? What the hell are you addicted to, Avery?”
“Chocolate and the Vampire Diaries.”
“Fuck you, girlfriend. I’m addicted to class A opiates. I think that’s slightly different.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Compared to me, you’re a fully functional member of society. I’m the only fucked up one around here.”
“Oh, I assure you. I’m plenty fucked up, babe.” She must hear the tension in my voice. Morgan places her hand on my arm, rubbing gently.
“I’m sorry, chica. I’m being an asshole. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. It’s just…”
“He who shall not be named?”
“Yeah.” I swallow down the huge lump in my throat. It should feel better by now, shouldn’t it? It should hurt less. It’s been almost two months. You’d think I’d be over this by now, and yet I’m not. It just keeps getting worse and worse.
“All right. That’s it,” Morgan says. “Maybe we should scrap the pact for this evening and talk about it. About him . It might help you.” I made her swear a while back that she wouldn’t even mention his name, because she kept asking about him relentlessly and it really wasn’t helping.
“You are not getting out of your session by dredging up all of my crap, Morgan.”
“Not now. After this we can grab a burger or something.”
“I don’t know, Morgan. Talking about it just seems counterproductive.”
“Like me going to my sessions, you mean?”
Fuck. She has me there. “Morgan—”
“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll shut up about us going to Seabrook if you swear to vent when we’re done. Then we’ll be even.”
“All right. Sure, I’ll try.” At this point I’ll say anything just to get her ass into one of those seats. If I really don’t feel like rehashing every single Luke Reid related nightmare I’ve had since he vanished off the face of the earth, I can always renege later. Sue me.
Morgan turns the radio up, giving me another sad smile. I’m grateful for the break in the conversation. Another fifteen minutes pass, and Morgan grows more and more tense by the second as we draw closer to the counseling facility. By the time I pull up in the parking lot, her body is almost entirely rigid.
A small wave of guilt washes over me. I may give her a hard time but in the same vein, I hate that she has to do this.
I get out of the car and walk around to wait for her. She’s taking far too long, and her complexion looks pasty at best.
“Hey, how about this...” I slip my arm into hers as we head toward the yawning entrance of the vast building. “How about I put down that I’m addicted to sex toys? If I can keep a straight face the entire time, you have to buy lunch.”
A smile lifts her mouth. “Avery, you have absolutely no hope whatsoever of pulling that off.”
“Oh, ye of little faith. I can do this.”
“Wait. Are you really a sex addict? It’s ‘cause of Luke, isn’t it? I don’t blame you. I would have been addicted to his di—”
I slap her on the arm, an itching sensation crawling across my skin. I’m not ready to joke about sleeping with Luke yet. No way. “I said toys. Luke wasn’t a toy.” If he was, he would have been a brightly painted baseball bat that looked like it was really fun to play with, when in reality it was covered in barbed wire and had shards of glass embedded in the damn handle.
“I’m just saying.” Morgan dodges away from me, grinning, as I lunge at her, trying to slap her again. Her smile is contagious.
We walk into the air-conditioned building and sign in at the very prestigious-looking front desk. Morgan completes the paperwork required of her as I look around. The place looks rather empty until an older African-American guy opens the door closest to us.
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