Me: Why the fuck would you do that?!?!
Millie: You needed a good kick in your ass after the other night at the party. Leaving her like that. You’re welcome.
His response has my blood boiling, but not because I think he’s wrong. No, because even in my fury-filled state, I canacknowledge it was wrong to not go after her. What I’m pissed about is him taking it upon himself to enact street justice.
Millie starts to giggle, and when I look up at her, murder still in my eyes with how pissed I am at Beau, she laughs even harder.
When I continue to glare, she lifts one shoulder and says, “He’s kind of right.”
My eyes practically bug out of my head. “I almost had a heart attack this morning thinking something happened to you.”
My statement sobers her some, but she still has a sweet smile on her face. “I’m not saying what he did was right or cool, but I can see where he’s coming from.”
“He’s supposed to be my friend.”
“He is,” she answers simply before going over and picking up her own nail gun to use.
I look down at my phone and quickly type out to Beau that we will talk about this later. Because we definitely will, and it will most likely involve physical violence.
Then I go to edit her contact info. “What’s your number, Daredevil?”
She prattles it off without hesitation. I commit the number to memory as I type it in and save it. This shit’s never happening to me again.
One, Beau Coleman is never touching my phone again, and two, if anything ever happens to my phone, Millie St. James is the only number I’ll have memorized.
I slide my phone into my pocket and come over to stand next to her. She looks up, her long, light-brown eyelashes flutter. “Don’t be too mad at him, will ya?”
I bristle at the thought of not giving him absolute hell because that’s what he deserves, but the sincere and serious look on her face has me pausing. “Why?”
She bites her bottom lip before releasing it. “Because his heart was in the right place, and he seems like a really nice guy.”
My hackles start to go up for an entirely different reason. “Nice guy,” I repeat. Does she have a crush on one of my closest friends? I mean, this little stunt definitely has him falling down the ranks on that list, but is it possible they connected that night?
She nods, “Yeah, I mean it was a douchey thing to do and all, but—” she trails off as she watches my face.
“Do you like him?” I ask as calmly as I can, but on the inside, I’m being lit up with a fiery ball of jealousy.
“What?”
“I mean, it’s okay if you do.” The lie barely slips past my lips without me choking on it. “I would just like a heads-up if you want to date one of my friends.” There, I said it, even though it felt like razor blades on my tongue.
“Rowan,” she says my name like she’s reprimanding a child.
It takes everything in me to keep my face a mask of indifference. I want so badly to pull her to me and kiss her so damn hard that she never even thinks of another man, but I don’t.
We’re supposed to befriends.
That word is going to be my undoing. I can feel it.
Her eyes haven’t left my face, but I can’t tell what she’s thinking, and I’m not at all prepared for what comes out of her mouth next. “At first, I thought there might be something there. Between us, I mean.”
My stomach drops to my feet. I feel like I might be sick. My heart starts beating at an unnatural pace, and I break out into a cold sweat.
It feels like forever before she says, “But I don’t think there is,” and puts me out of my misery.
It’s not a hard no, and that’s fucking with my head more than anything. Part of me wants to ask more questions, dig into the reason why she doesn’t think it would work between the two ofthem.Is it because he’s a hockey player? Or is it just him in general?Beau’s a pain in my ass, but she’s right, he’s a good guy with sometimes misguided intentions.
But I can’t bring myself to ask any of them.
