“Brenna fails to mention lots of things,” Nathan muttered under his breath.
In some far reach of my consciousness last night, I remembered I had a boyfriend, someone who had been nice when I was at my lowest. But Nathan consumed my every thought, and I betrayed the boy who approached me when I sat alone in the cafeteria.
I warned Derek he didn’t want to sit with me, but he took a seat anyway, saying he’d make the judgment himself. Ilikedhim. He was cute and smart, and we had fun together. I had to move on from Nathan, so why not him?
Nathan looked over his shoulder at me, where I stood cemented to the floor. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your boyfriend,sis?”
That ripped me out of my momentary trance. “I’m not yoursister.”
“No, but we share a sibling, and our parents are probably going to get married.”
“I would be yourstepsister then.”
Nathan shrugged, affecting nonchalance. Any walls that broke down last night were raised again. “Same difference.”
“It’s not.”
Derek’s head swiveled between Nathan and me as we volleyed retorts. In the quiet that followed, he stuck out his hand to Nathan. “I’m Derek.”
Nathan wrenched his hateful gaze from me to take his hand.
“It’s good to meet you,” Derek said.
“Breakfast is getting cold,” I said, pulling him toward the kitchen. I didn’t look back at Nathan.
25
NATHAN
Now
Brenna hadn’t worn herengagement ring in days.
Not since the night she returned to the house without her fiancé and he left town.
We hadn’t talked about anything that happened that night. Not the moment we shared on the field. Not the revelation that I saw Brenna’s marriage proposal. Not the sudden appearance and disappearance of her significant other.
There was either nothing for Brenna to tell me, or the absence of her ring had nothing to do with me. I didn’t ask because I’d rather not have confirmation.
Withered fingers snapped in front of my face. “Your turn, Sharpe,” Bertram barked. “Stop holding up our game. You think we have all the time in the world?”
The other two men guffawed. I’d never met people more amused by the prospect of their impending demise.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, reacquainting myself with my cards. The regular group of seniors had beckoned me into this game thirty minutes ago during my break.
The front door chimed, stealing my attention. Gemma strode through, flanked by two women. A pretty woman, whose blue-dyed hair was piled on top of her head in a bun, sported a Palmer City Wolves sweatshirt. And on Gemma’s other side… Deandra Collins.
“Nathan Sharpe,” Deandra said, a thin smile breaking her cool expression.
Bertram sighed loudly. “We’re in the middle of a game.”
I tossed him a look, then dropped my cards on the table. “I fold.”
It wasn’t as if I had a shot at beating these guys. They only invited me to play to fatten their winnings and to annoy Allison, who’d been staring daggers at the rowdy group all morning.
Deandra and I met in the middle of the café, pulling each other into a hug.
“When Gemma told me you owned the place next door, I didn’t believe it.” She assessed me from my feet to my face. “You look the same as I remember.”
