“Huh?” I stare at him. What the fuck?
He lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “You know, because you clearly want to fuck her, and all,” he deadpans. “Or you already have.”
And now I want to fucking pummel him.
Reeve splays his palm in surrender, even as he breaks out into an equally rare burst of laughter, and still it takes me another beat to realize he’s just fucking with me.
I suck in a long drag of nicotine in an attempt to regain control of myself, turning toward the cracked window to blow it all away, like the smoke can somehow take with it all this goddamned stress. Because this shit isn’t me. This hair-trigger anger, and jealousy, and indignation. These fucking feelings in general. It’s all completely out of character, which is exactly why Reeve finds it so fucking entertaining. Because I am the laid-back guy. The one who gives zero fucks—who lets the background noise bounce right off without a backward glance.
Except when it comes to Beth-fucking-Caplan. My perpetual fucking exception.
But I’m not the only one with a weakness. “You still talking to Lani, huh?” I smirk, which wipes the amusement right off his face. Score.
Reeve shrugs. “Maybe.”
But as much as I want to break his balls about it, Reeve hasn’t been into a girl since he’s been here. In fact, I don’t think he’s been into a girl since the ex I never met fucked him up in ways he’s never confided, and if he’s carrying a torch for Lani, I don’t want to be the one to stamp it out. So, instead, I encourage him. “You should take her out.”
Reeve laughs humorlessly, like the idea of taking a girl on a date is absurd. And maybe it is. I don’t think I’ve ever taken a girl on a real date, either.
“She loves the wings at Toolies, you know. Lani’s not high maintenance.”
This time Reeve’s laugh is sincere. “No shit.” He smiles a rare, genuine smile. “That chick is a lot of fucking things, but high maintenance is not one of them.”
I don’t know what to say to that, and I feel like I’m missing some inside joke between the two of them, so I just suck in another drag of nicotine. I’m still thrown off by what he said about Beth—why it pissed me off so much when he referenced me fucking her. I am fucking her. Friends with benefits—that’s all this is…right?
Reeve eventually finishes his drink. He grabs his jacket and reminds me to come by the house to watch the game before turning to the door.
“So, just theoretically speaking…” I stop him.
His eyebrows raise in question.
“Let’s say my friend likes this girl…” My nerves lose their shit at the thought of talking about Beth with him—with anyone. But I can’t exactly call Cap or Tuck on this, and I’m at a fucking loss at this point.
Reeve doesn’t smirk this time. There’s no pretense about the existence of my “friend,” and the reality is I just admitted to him I like Beth. Actually, it’s the first time I’ve really admitted it to myself. Because wanting her is one thing, but liking her, in a way that has nothing to do with friendship…that’s fucking terrifying.
“What would you say if he grew up with this girl, and they’re practically related?” My nonchalant tone belies nothing, but then, I hadn’t meant it to.
Reeve sighs. “I’d say, practically related isn’t related,” he says meaningfully. “It’s not like you share blood. But be careful. You can’t go there for a quick fuck, man.” He glares at me, and even pretenses of pretenses have vanished into thin air, and I’m too stunned that I’m actually having this conversation to fully process, let alone respond. “Trust me, March. You’ve got a lot to lose. Only risk it if it’s really worth it.”
But Beth is worth anything.
Is she worth my relationship with Cap? Is she worth risking the only real “family” I’ve got? That is what it has always boiled down to. And for the first time, I think this thing with Beth and me…well, maybe it is worth risking a decade and a half of friendship, for the chance at a lifetime—a future—of something more.
An image of Beth’s beautiful heart-shaped face floats through my mind, her ethereal ocean blue eyes wide open with promises she’s never actually offered me, and I remember, I’ve chosen her over Cap before. Years ago. When it counted, when it mattered—when she needed me—I chose her.
But even as I think it, I know I’m bullshitting myself. Because that was different.
This isn’t about choosing her, but myself.
But then again…I am a selfish fucking bastard.
Chapter Twenty-three
Beth
I wake up the same way I have every morning since last weekend, wrapped up in all things David. His scent, his arms, his warmth. Never has it been harder to force myself out of bed.
Still in his sleep, he holds me like I’m valuable to him—precious. I try not to let myself grow accustomed to it, but it feels so good. Comforting. But then, David has always been a comfort to me when he could.
