Page 105 of Bend

More than I want to admit, even to myself.

But one look at her, and the anger doesn’t stand a chance of being simple. It’s still there, sharp and stubborn, but so is everything I feel for her.

It's bloody inconvenient.

Echo glances at the bottles in my hand and smiles. “Well, look at you helping. Apparently everyone else is too drunk to give a shit.”

I drop the empties into the bin. “Right well don’t get used to it. I’ve got an image to maintain.”

“Of course. Moody British prick with hidden depths and a tragic love for boy bands.”

“Oi. Nothing tragic about it.”

“You know all the words.”

“That’s called taste, love.”

She laughs, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks, though.”

“No problem.”

I lean one shoulder against the wall beside her, trying to sound casual when my stomach’s tied itself into a fucking knot.

“Fancy a chat?”

Her gaze flicks to mine, and there it is.

Guilt.

She looks like she’s been waiting for me to bring this up and dreading it every second.

“Yeah,” she says. “We probably should.”

“Probably.”

She drops her eyes to the bottle cap she’s turning between her fingers. “Before you say anything, I know I handled everything badly.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

Her mouth twists. “I deserve that.”

I fold my arms across my bare chest, more to give my hands something to do than anything else. I’m still in nothing but black swim shorts, skin tight from the salt drying over it, tattoos disappearing beneath the waistband and climbing all the way up my neck.

Echo’s gaze flicks over me before dropping to the bottle cap she’s worrying between her fingers.

I should let her sit in it.

Part of me wants to.

The part that keeps replaying every conversation we had about Wolfe while she was carrying around a whole other secret. The part that feels like a complete mug for letting her see things I’ve barely admitted to myself.

My jaw tightens, and I look past her toward the beach before I say something harsher than I mean.

But she looks genuinely fucking miserable. Shoulders drawn in, hair falling forward as she stares at her hands like she’d rather be anywhere else.

And I know her well enough now to know this wasn’t some game.

That doesn’t make it hurt less.