Chapter 18
Another sigh. “Bradley, it’s late.”
He pulls the afghan tighter around his shoulders, but it barely meets across his broad chest. “My gas is out,” he tells me. “I need to stay here tonight.”
Bullshit.“Your gas?” What’s he talking about?
With a nod, he mumbles, “Don’t know what happened, it just doesn’t work. Maybe it’s the pilot or something, I don’t know, but it’s getting cold—”
“It’s the middle of May.” Why am I even doing this? Letting him talk to me like nothing’s happened between us. “Put some more clothes on,” I say, then I force a bitter laugh. “Get your current boy toy to warm you up. What’s his name? Jeffrey baby?”
His pout deepens—that hit a nerve. His voice is barely a whisper when he tells me, “He’s gone.”