The rest of us – Noah, Grayson and me – have worked in a comfortable silence for the last few minutes to allow Hunter that time to admit his feelings to himself.
Poor bastard.
He’s so fucking whipped, and he doesn’t even realise it.
I don’t envy him one single bit.
Love is bullshit.
It isn’t patient and it isn’t kind.
It pulls you in, chews you up and spits out a lesser version of your former self.
Yeah, no. Don’t recommend.
Like some kind of fucking cosmic joke, Noah chooses that exact moment to open his mouth, the words spilling from his lips only solidifying that love is in-fact, bullshit. “Oh hey, Kill, I hear Daisy’s coming back to town. You hear ‘bout this?”
My paint brush freezes against the wall as every single muscle in my body tenses and my heart comes to a screeching halt in my chest.
There is no way I heard that correctly.
I inhale a deep breath and turn to look at him. “What?”
Noah doesn’t stop his task or even look at me as he responds. “Yeah man. I heard her mom talking to Bells the other day in the café.”
My eyebrows shoot up, betrayal and anger simmering within me. “Bella knows about this?”
Hunter and Grayson stay silent while I glare daggers in the side of my friend’s head. Noah must pick up on the tense silence that has fallen over the room because he finally turns to me. “You didn’t know?”
No, I didn’t fucking know that the woman that disappeared on me three and a half years ago has returned.
I’m certain I resemble a less friendly version of Casper the fucking ghost. My hands begin to shake, a pit forming low in my stomach as a million memories and feelings that I thought I had buried, threaten to rush in all at once.
Fuck. This cannot be happening.
I swallow past the thick lump in my throat. “Does it look like I knew?”
The three brothers stare at me with caution, their eyes flicking to each other and back to me as if they’re waiting for me to lash out.
Or break down.
Either one is a possibility.
I run a frustrated hand through my hair, meeting Noah’s deer-in-headlights gaze. “When?”
“When what?”
“When is she coming back?” I ask through gritted teeth.
His eyes flick around the room nervously and I swear to fucking God I might throw up all over Hunter’s not-girlfriend’s freshly painted walls. “She’s already back, man.”
Yup, I’m going to throw up.
“Fuck.” I drop my paintbrush into the pallet and take a seat on the covered sofa, trying and failing to contain my wild thoughts.
Why is she back?
Is she back for good?
