“With extra pecans and extra raspberry sauce,” Zach confirms.
“Okay, let me get my shit.”
“What shit?” I ask.
“Some of my stuff is in Darcy’s bedroom. I came here first?—”
I shake my head at him as he wanders off, then I twist and turn until I find Darcy. She’s glowering at me, but I’m okay with that. I don’t want her dive-bombing Pecan while he’s in her room—we’ll never get him away from her.
She’s been sniffing around him since we came to Oakwood and once I’ve deciphered why Hailey and Pecan broke up, I don’t intend on letting Darcy mess with them further.
Not when Hailey is damn good for Pecan. He didn’t get caught with his ass out in public once by anyone other than me, even though I know they fucked in less-than-private areas while they were together.
For Peeks the Cheeks, that’s a massive frickin’ win.
“What are you thinking?”
I keep my gaze locked on Darcy. “That we need to smuggle him out of here so Succubus Sally over there can’t get her claws into him.”
His hand settles on my nape. “He’s coming.”
“That’s my worry.”
“I meant literally. He’s over there.” He cackles when I blush. “Hey, you know he’ll be fine.”
“You didn’t see him last year, Zach. He didn’t do well without you.” I can’t say that I did much better either. “Hailey, I dunno, balanced him? She made him… better.” It sucks to say that about a close friend, but there’s no denying Pecan can be annoying as fuck sometimes. “I need to figure out what’s going on between them.”
“You’re such a meddler.” He chucks me under the chin so he can plant a kiss on my lips. “Your charge is by the door so I think we can leave.”
“You sure you don’t mind?”
“Nah. Barely anyone from the team’s here anyway. Plus, we made our point. You’re here. You held your head high. You faced these fuckers.It might take some time, but the holidays are coming up and you’ll be going to Spain soon. Memories will fade.”
Relief that I’ll be spending six weeks in Spain at the start of the new year hits me. I can sense he’s dreading it so I don’t blurt out, “Viva España!”
Instead, I squeeze his hand in thanks before we trudge through the crowd.
Hell, alcohol might help with memory loss too—the amount these idiots are soaking up will definitely damage their brains.
Zach grabs our coats, and I release a deep breath when we step outside the building. It’s cold and brisk and the noise is so loud, it feels as if the bass is rumbling through the sidewalk.
Pecan, unsurprisingly for a man of his size, might be shitfaced, but he can still walk in a straight line.
When we reach Zach’s ride, he dumps his stuff in the trunk, then climbs into the back seat.
Tweaking the playlist so that “Laissez-Faire”plays straight off, I ask him, “Right, what happened?”
“Let Auntie Denny fix things for you,” Zach coos as he hits the ignition and takes us to Dopie’s.
“There’s nothing to fix.”
“Sure there is. This can’t have just come out of the blue. She had my back at the library!”
“Yesterday, she was fine. Earlier, things were normal. I made her goddamn breakfast in bed this morning and we left for class. She kissed me. Then, this evening, she’s like, ‘We need to talk.’” He scrubs a hand over his face. “You know that’s the death knell.”
My brows lift at the idea of Pecan, my buddy Peter Canard, master of the takeout app, making Hailey breakfast in bed.
The hell?
