I smile. “Tell him I miss him, too. Are you behaving for her?”
He nods and slouches. “I’m trying to pass my classes. It’s hard with all the news cameras and drama. I’m tired of everyone asking me about you and the case.”
“I know. Sorry. It must be a pain in the ass.”
He thumps his fist on the metal table. “It is! All over Morgan.” He shakes his head. “I... I wish I nevertold you about her.”
I look up from under my brow. This isn’t a conversation I want to have. Morgan possesses my thoughts enough.
I change the subject.
“How’s the center? You helpin’ after school?”
“Yeah,” he grumbles but pivots. “And Morgan didn’t apologize to you, did she? I saw her, Jack. She practically begged us to fry that gremlin. We saved her.”
I groan, because that isn’t true. I see it every night. The way Gabe screamed, the way his body jerked, the smell.
I didn’t just hurt him. I crossed into something I can’t uncross. He deserved it, but I gambled everything I had.
I lost.
That’s why I stare at Noel. Either he is still delusional, or he wants me to feel better for putting my own dumbass in jail.
I sigh and shrug. “Shouldn’t have done it. I wouldn’t be here if I just left.”
“Yeah, and if I had tits, I’d be your sister.” He gives a big impish grin, but it fades when I don’t laugh. “Seriously, this is fucked. Gabe should be in jail. Not you.”
“Do you still like Morgan?” I ask bluntly.
His eyes dart to the floor and he mutters, “Yeah.”
I should be mad that his obsession hasn’t withered, but truthfully, I feel bad for him.
The moment I laid eyes on that diamond on her finger, I stopped breathing. It was a gut-wrenching moment. What a way to kick a guy while he’s down. That’s her, though. If it’s righteous in her mind, fuck everyone else.
I bite down and tell him what I know, even if it hurts.
“She’s marrying that other preacher. Saw her engagement ring.”
“I know. She posted about it.” Noel swallows hard and takes a moment. In a low voice, he strains to add, “I would’ve preferred her with you.”
My eyebrows pop up. “Come again?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’d hate it, but Gabe called us lowlifes. Blake probably thinks the same. I thought preachers were supposed to be accepting.”
I laugh. “They’re not Jesus. They’re human.”
He rolls his eyes, but goes on. “Whatever, I don’t know why that label got to me.” His voice falters. He drums his fingertips on the table, musing. “Blake’s not right for her, ya know?”
Wrong.
“Morgan and him work,” I reply, and as if Noel was the one with an ice pick in his heart, I console him. “Sorry she didn’t pick you.”
“Thanks,” he mumbles. “So, do you talk to her in those lawyer meetings?”
“Not really.”
“You guys were all over each other at the diner, though. If you dated, isn’t that weird seeing her engaged?”
