I have avoided talking to her too much, not wanting her to pick up on how I actually feel about them and the nature of our relationship.
She’s way too perceptive to not pick up on it. Just the way I reacted after Kane’s accident was probably all the ammo she needed for her to start putting together the puzzle pieces in her mind.
“Nope,” she says, resting her head against the back of the chair. She’s practically lying on it by now. “This is the third day in a row I’ve worked. Being here and sleeping is all I’ve really accomplished.”
“Mmm,” I hum, trying not to give anything away.
“Trouble in paradise?” she asks.
My eyebrows shoot up. “No… I mean, what?”
She smirks, shaking her head. “I might be old, Abby, but I’m not dumb.”
“I never said you were.”
“I can tell from a mile away that you’re in love with them,” she says, her face more serious now.
“We’re just friends.”
“Okay, fine, if that’s the story you want to stick to,” she says, looking up at the too-bright lights above.
I guess my avoidance of the topic was unwarranted because she figured it out anyway. I let out a heavy exhale. “Fine… you’re right.”
“Always am.”
Fucking Becks.
“Did something happen?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug.
“Good or bad?”
I let out a nervous laugh. “If that isn’t the million-dollar question.”
“They love you, too,” she says. “They look at you the same way you look at all of them.”
“I hope you’re right,” I say, feeling a little glimmer of that dying hope flare back to life in my chest.
“Didn’t we already clarify that I’m always right?”
I laugh fully for the first time in days. It feels good. The questions and unknowns finally stop strangling my heart, even if only for a minute.
My phone skids across the desk in front of me as it vibrates. I snatch it so fast that it should probably be embarrassing, but I don’t care about anything other than seeing who texted me.
Seeing Wyatt’s name on the screen makes my heart pound a little faster. It’s just an address from the next town over. A second message quickly follows.
Wyatt:Meet us here when you get off work, beautiful.
He follows it up with another message with four red hearts. I read over the messages two, three, four times.
He called me by the endearment he usually uses. That must be a good sign.
Right?
“I take it’s one of them?” Becks asks. I forgot she was sitting there.
I nod, not able to formulate words. I glance at the clock on my computer.
