I spin on them, anger rising to cloud out the nausea. “You don’t know me or who I deserve. Amelia’s been telling me since day one that she doesn’t want a relationship, that I’m nothing more to her than sex because I’m just a fun-time guy. I’m finally choosing to listen.”
“She said that?” Bryson looks genuinely shocked.
I shrug. “Not in those words exactly, but the message was clear.”
Bryson and Asher give each other a look and then lean in to confer in low voices.
“She was lying,” Bryson says, turning to me. “And I think it’s my fault.”
I take a step back toward him, but stop myself. “It doesn’t matter. If she really thinks I’m the kind of guy who would stage a meetup with her after she made it very clear she didn’t want to meet, that I’d manipulate her and not tell her the truth—” Even in my dizzy state, I realize that’s not right. “I mean, I didn’t tell her the truth. Not as soon as I found out, but that’s just because I’m a selfish asshole. I’m not a scheming, manipulative, selfish asshole.”
“He’s right,” Cash says. “Amelia’s made it clear she doesn’t want the same thing Deacon does. You don’t need to worry about him trying to get back with her. Deacon’s not that guy.”
I want to hug Cash for having my back. Especially when I’m not at all sure he totally believes what he’s saying.
“I’m not sure that’s the right choice,” Bryson says. “You made Amelia happy in a way I didn’t realize until you two broke up. She hasn’t been the same since.”
“Really good sex will do that to a woman,” Cash says, as he walks down the stairs toward me, putting on a bro-tude he doesn’t really possess. He’s clearly on team forget Amelia, but I want to hear what Bryson has to say.
“If it was just about sex,” Bryson asks, “why did I hear her crying in the shower this morning?”
He must catch my glare, because he holds up both hands. “I was there to help Harper get ready for preschool and to drive her over. I swear. Amelia and I are totally over.”
“Why was she crying?” I ask as I hurry back up the steps. “Did something happen?”
Bryson’s brow creases like he’s confused. “She dumped you. That’s the only thing that’s happened that could account for her crying in the shower.”
“She’s crying because of me?” I sway, my hangover not mixing well with emotional distress. “But she dumped me.”
Bryson shakes his head. “You should probably sit down. Come on in. I’ll make you my hangover cure.”
I look to Cash. “What are the odds he’s bringing us inside to kill us and dismember our bodies?”
Bryson shudders. “Dude, I was the laughingstock of my high school because I passed out at the sight of blood when one of my buddies took me deer hunting. I’m not dismembering anyone.”
“He didn’t say anything about the killing part and Asher’s not squeamish.” Cash’s face twists as though he’s remembering an incident where Asher had an iron stomach. There are many to choose from. “I love you, brother, but I’m not willing to die for you.”
“We’re not killing anyone,” Bryson says. “I’m going to help you get Amelia back.”
Cash moves to stand shoulder to shoulder with me like we’re preparing for battle. “He’s definitely planning to kill you.”
“Why would you do that?” I ask, hope or low blood sugar making me light-headed.
“Because I’m the reason she’s avoiding a serious relationship, and I’m the reason she had to raise our daughter alone for four years. I want her to be happy, and you seem to make her happy. And I believe you aren’t a manipulative stalker asshole. You seem like a good guy.”
“You’ll be fine,” Asher says, slapping me on the back as he walks by on his way off the porch. “I’m glad you aren’t a total dick, but if you hurt my sister, I’ll make sure they never find the body.”
His threat is less intimidating than it might otherwise be because he’s smiling and walking backwards down the sidewalk as he says it.
“Fair enough,” I say.
Asher waves and gets into an oversized truck parked in the driveway.
“Okay,” I say, turning to Bryson, ready to follow him into the house. If he wants to help me get Amelia back, who am I to argue?
Cash grabs my arm and yanks me so hard I almost fall backwards down the stairs. “Not so fast.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “If you aren’t going to kill us, you need to find a job here for us, because Sebastian will kill us if we waste more than fifteen minutes here. He’s not going to care about true love triumphing or any of that shit.”
“This is a rental,” Bryson says with a shrug. “Part of my lease is that I can’t make any changes to the place.”
