Read Crazy Love for Free Online

“I’ll be right back. I need a breath of fresh air.”
    Sam shook his head and huffed. I waited for Trip to be out of earshot before tossing down my menu.
    “Well, for someone who doesn’t say a whole lot, you sure choose your words for shit.” I snapped, and if I offended him, you’d never know if from the blank expression he wore.
    “Excuse me?” This wasn’t so much a question as a filler line that he seemed to deliver on autopilot.
    “That was mighty supportive of you, Bro.” I waved after Trip while glaring daggers at Sam. As I reached for the stem of my wineglass, the irony of my momentary need for liquid courage was not lost on me. Sam’s unapologetic nature annoyed me. He came off to me as the polar opposite of his brother: rude, antisocial, and judgmental.
    “It’s a bold-faced lie.” Sam shrugged casually and took a long swallow of his drink. He set down his glass and folded his hands, fixing me with a look that dared me to challenge him. I frowned at him and shook my head.
    “What on earth makes you think that?”
    “I know Trip. He can’t go a day without a drink.”
    “Is that so? ‘Cause I’ve known him for months and I’ve never seen him drinking, let alone drunk.”
    His eyes narrowed and though he seemed to be staring at me, I was pretty sure he didn’t really see me. It was as if he were miles away.
    I pressed on. “What’s the deal with the two of you? It must be pretty bad if you can’t even pretend to be excited for him.”
    Sam leaned his elbows on the table. His perfectly etched jaw and raw energy was distracting, but the intensity of his stare almost made me flinch. “Listen carefully, Annabelle. Don’t be fooled by the act. Prince Charming is a toxic monster.”
    I can’t really say if it was the harsh cadence of his voice or the overwhelming sadness I saw brimming under the surface of his cool facade, but I swear he curdled my blood. I searched his features for signs of malice and found nothing. What I did find was that I felt uncomfortable with the way his eyes penetrated mine, and I turned away and took a sip of my wine.
    “Don’t you think he deserves a second chance?” I forced myself to look at him. I was so fascinated by his beautiful features that it stung when he threw his head back and chuckled at me in a conciliatory manner.
    “Do you think he deserves a seventh or eighth chance? Because if you plan to spend any amount of time with Trip, you’ll have to ask yourself that question…and soon.” He delivered this speech without emotion, as if he were stating that he took his coffee with cream and two sugars. He seemed practiced at the art of shutting down, stuffing his emotions in a trunk and locking them away for later examination. Unfortunately, I’d met his type many times before. Most friends and family of addicts wore a similar expression when their wounds were fresh. I was pretty sure I wore that exact expression when I was in a room with my mom. But Trip was nothing like my mom. I could feel it. Since Sam was a virtual stranger, I grasped for something insightful to say, but the usual platitudes seemed too cheesy to bother with.
    Our waiter had been hovering nearby, blatantly eavesdropping. When he approached the table with the tomatoes and oysters, I glared pointedly at him. He smiled broadly back at me, as if our “table tension” was giving him a contact high. His nosiness pissed me off, but his interruption bought me time to gather my wits. After weeks of talking myself out of messing around with Trip and the last week talking myself back into it, Sam and his revelations were particularly unwelcome. My mom was an addict, and I’d ridden that roller-coaster enough to see that Trip definitely needed to work the twelve steps with Sam. I glared at the waiter as he leisurely refilled Trip’s water glass.
    “Enjoying the show?” I sneered. Sam’s eyebrows shot to his hairline at my snarky remark to the man. As the chastised waiter fled as if his