“Only before we left the party. But he didn’t look at me once after that.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
Tate tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. He definitely wasn’t in agreement.
“It doesn’t,” she insisted. “You just—”
“It’s fine, Rye,” he said over her. “I’m over it. Plus, Ben called me last night.”
Reilly went stone still as she lowered her hands and barely managed to hold onto the candy bars. “What?”
He nodded, but she knew he saw her hatred for his ex-boyfriend in her eyes.
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, Tate,” she said, sighing dramatically. “Come on. Tell me you’re not gonna fall for his shit.”
“Can you blame a guy for not wanting to be alone on Christmas?”
No. She honestly couldn’t. She was in the same boat. She didn’t want to be alone on Christmas either. It seemed everyone in her family was happily paired up these days, and the last thing she wanted was to soak up all that lovey-dovey stuff without a little of her own to warm her at night.
However, she wasn’t willing to spend the holiday with an ex who was a habitual cheater.
“It’s been six months, Tate. Where’s he been all this time?”
She knew the timeline because back when Tate had first learned that Ben was cheating on him, he’d gone to get tested for STDs. The initial test came back negative, but they told him to do a follow-up in ninety days because some diseases didn’t show up that quickly. Which he did, and those tests came back negative, too. And God, she remembered him going through all that, terrified, and rightfully so. Reilly wanted to remind him of the hell Ben had put him through, but she also wanted to believe her best friend was smarter than that.
“Have you heard from him at all until the other day?”
“No.” Tate passed her the empty box so she could toss it into the bin.
“So where’s he been? Did he say?”
Tate didn’t answer, and Reilly could tell she was irritating him. Good. She wanted to because the last thing she wanted was to watch Tate get his heart trampled on by a skeevy asshole like Ben.
“Probably screwin’ half the guys in the next county, that’s what he was doin’,” she said when he didn’t answer. “You know I’m right.”
“He just wants to hang out,” Tate admitted as he hopped up on the counter.
“I hope you told him to get fucked.”
Tate laughed, but it sounded sad. “I guess it could be translated that way.”
Reilly spun to face him and shook her head. “No.”
Tate frowned. “No, what?”
“You are not gonna let Ben come over and stomp all over your trampled heart anymore.”
“I’m not?”
“No.”
“Why not?’
She grinned. “Because we agreed to stop sittin’ on the sidelines this year.”
