Page 27 of Holding Penalty

“Like I said, I took care of it. My teammates and I bought up every copy we could find. We all scoured the internet, too, and we can’t find any examples of anyone posting about it. Still, I thought you should know. If a stray copy is still out there, I don’t want you to see it and feel blindsided.”

Her throat works on a swallow, but then the worry recedes from her expression, and she tilts a shoulder.

“Even if Crew saw the photo, I’d just tell him to believe me that it wasn’t what it looks like. If I can do that for him, he can do the same for me.”

A feeling close to nausea hits me right in the sternum.

She believed whatever bullshit story he concocted for her.

I pull in a long, deep breath through my nose, trying to unknot the tension coiling in my muscles. It’s none of my business, I remind myself.

At least, I try to remind myself, because my mouth runs ahead of my thoughts.

“So you’re marrying him.” I can’t disguise the distaste in my voice.

Piper’s shoulders hitch. Something that looks like hurt sparks in her eyes at the disapproval in my tone, and I feel like an ass.

“Yes, I am.” There’s defensiveness in her voice, a hard and impersonal edge to it that feels like it’s pushing me away, reasserting the distance between us that closed during the night we spent together.

I should take the hint and drop it. I told her what I came here to tell her. She obviously doesn’t want to be interrogated about her personal relationship decisions, which I have no business sticking my nose into.

But that damn mouth of mine is still too fast for my better judgment.

“You believed what he told you?” The words come out less like a question and more like an accusation.

I guess that’s what it was. But I don’t know if the person I’m accusing is Piper, or myself from years ago, for all the signs I ignored when it came to my own fiancée.

Piper visually bristles. Her eyebrows tug low.

“Yes, I did. And I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

Her short, impersonal tone feels like ice-water sloshing through my veins.

I should turn around and leave, but I don’t. I stay standing in front of her, my gaze latched to her eyes, unwavering. Something in her bright greens softens, and her defiant posture weakens.

“What else am I supposed to do? Just throw away a relationship I’ve spent years building, with my wedding just days away? Start my whole life over again? Lose the job I love?”

“Yes,” I answer, the word a snap from my mouth with no hesitation. “All of those things, before staying with a cheater.”

Her lower lip pulls, like she’s tugging it between her teeth. “What if he’s not a cheater, though?”

My eyebrow lifts. “What if? So you don’t even truly believe him.”

Her mouth falls open, her throat hitching like she’s about to say something, but she stops herself.

“Look, thanks for being there for me Friday night, but this is really none of your business.”

A sad feeling swirls in my chest. She’s right.

But behind that sad feeling, there’s a strange flicker of warmth at her words: thanks for being there for me.

I’d want to be there for her again, if she ever needed it.

“When’s the wedding?” I ask.

“Saturday,” she answers, quirking an eyebrow at my question.

“Where?”