“She’s too selfish for that. She might try to pick up another brother out of spite.” I hate Greer. Seeing her in Bram’s arms tore me in two. Knowing Creed was standing next to me seeing the same thing was even worse.
“None of the brothers is stupid enough to fall for her wiles after this. They’ll see right through her. Wait. She’s friends with The Cake Lady. Does that mean we won’t have any chance of getting cake? Because I’m pretty sure Bear was counting on getting cake.”
Cheating women don’t usually have close friends like that, do they? “How is your woman going to handle her friend acting like that?” Greer just messed up literally everything for everyone.
Why?
Why not just date Bram if she likes him?
Why kiss me at the same time?
She was dating him since well before we were even friendly.
None of this makes any sense.
“Dad.” Creed comes rushing into the gym.
“What’s up?”
“Greer’s friends are back.”
I raise an eyebrow at Rogue, who’s holding my phone, probably watching the exact same feed but sparing me the blow-by-blow like a good wingman. “People have friends over.”
“Yeah, but she said hers turn up when she’s in trouble. Do you think she knows you know?”
“Don’t care. I’m not playing games with her or giving her the opportunity to play games with me.” Or my son.
“Understood. But there’s a van there too.”
And why do I care about that?
“There’s rack after rack of clothing rolling out of it.”
Do I really need to know this? I yank my gloves off and reach for the water flask at the edge of the mats. “And?”
“Why would she need clothes?”
“Because she’s a woman.” A rich one that doesn’t mind flaunting her wealth.
“Yeah, but it’s the middle of winter. That doesn’t make sense.”
Like anything about that woman makes sense. “Women don’t often make sense.”
“Maybe I should check on her.”
“Creed. This isn’t your battle.”
“But how could she do that? How, Dad? I know she loves you. I saw it. Her friends saw it. They teased her about it. They didn’t say a single word about Bram. But you…they talked about you and her the whole time. Greer’s friend said she was going to…well…date you if Greer didn’t. They were serious. They didn’t seem to be playing games. Why would she do this to us, Dad?”
I walk over and take my son into my arms. He doesn’t often—ever—allow me to hug him. The last time was when I told him his friend had died.
Greer hurt him as much as a death.
But what she did was worse. She killed some of his trust in humanity. “I don’t know.”
“I want to yell at her. I want to go over there and demand answers. I want her to tell me that all of this was a misunderstanding, and that everything is fine. That she really loves you.”
“I know.” I want the same thing more than I want to breathe, which is why I’m so mad…at myself…at her…
