Page 10 of The Beast

“In other words, you’re not into it.”

I shrug. “Honestly?” I say to the flooring. “Yeah, sex would be nice.” I hug myself, glance at him, then glance away again. “I cannot believe we are actually having this conversation.”

“All part of the best friend package. You were about to say something else.”

“Was I?” I guess, just I don’t want to screw up our friendship.” I knock back some wine from the glass he must have magically topped off.

“Impossible,” he says. “You’re like a sister.”

I almost spit out my wine even as he barks out a laugh. “Right,” he says. “That came out wrong.” He cocks his head. “So bad idea?”

“Not bad,” I say. “But maybe not the right idea.”

He nods. “Fair enough. I don’t want to risk messing up what we’ve got.”

“Me neither,” I say, meaning it with all my heart. “You going to crash? Or do you want to watch something else?”

“Stand-up?” he suggests, nodding at the wine bottle with maybe enough for one glass left in it. “Split it?”

I nod, then slide closer to him, purposefully leaning against him as we share the blanket to prove to both of us that the conversation wasn’t the weirdest and most awkward in the history of time.

David empties the bottle into our glasses, and we drink as we scroll through some of the best—and worst—comedians of the last few decades. By the time we turn off the TV, I’m giggling at pretty much anything. “Bed,” I say, wobbling my way to standing. “Time for sleep.”

“Definitely, he agrees, taking my hand for balance as he stands, too, then stumbles back, landing with a plop on the couch—and pulling me down with him.

The next thing I know, his mouth is on mine, and he’s kissing me. And I’m kissing him back. Then I realize what we’re doing and pull away. He looks at me, his expression is more than a little broken. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I know we said—but then you—and I—and, wine, and oh, hell, Bella, I’m sorry.”

I draw in a deep breath, every molecule in my body wishing that Gabe were alive. That I was in his arms. But he’s not. And I need to move on. And David—just a friend—is a safe way to take that first step.

My voice shakes as I say, “Just friends with benefits, right? And if this destroys our friendship, I will hunt you down and kill you as painfully as possible in cold blood.”

“Understood,” he says. And then, when I whisper, “Okay,” he pulls me close and kisses me. And damned if I don’t learn something new about the guy I’ve known my whole life. For one thing, I wasn’t imagining it before—he is a really good kisser.

For another, that’s not all he’s good at.

A few very lovely orgasms later, and I’m curled against him, thinking that this was a good idea. I mean, it would be sad for us to be married and never have sex or kids or any of that. And we’re good enough friends that we’ll be able to talk through any weirdness. So, who knew? Guess I’m a fan of the FWB arrangement after all.

I’m about to share that revelation with David when my phone chimes. And since my DND setting only has five people who can break through, and I’m in bed with one of them, I’m pretty sure it’s my dad calling.

“Ignore it,” David mumbles against my hair. “It’s the middle of the night. Whatever it is can wait.”

He’s right. But twenty-plus years of conditioning are hard to override. When Sterling Hart summons, his daughter jumps.

With a groan of frustration, I slide out of David’s arms and reach for the phone. Then my heart stops.

Because the text isn’t from my father.

It’s from Leo Grimm.

Five words. Just five words, and my entire world falls off its axis.

He called me. Gabriel’s alive!!!

The phone slips from my fingers.

He’s alive.

Gabriel. Is. Alive.

I’m out of bed before I’ve even made a conscious decision, my body shaking so hard I can barely stand.

“Bella?” David bolts up. “What’s wrong?”

I can’t answer. Can’t form words. Can barely breathe.

I grab my clothes off the floor and pull them on with trembling fingers.

“Bella, talk to me. What happened between us, are you⁠—?”

“We’re good,” I snap. “Really. We’re fine. But I have to go.” My voice sounds strange. Distant. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, David. I have to⁠—”

I don’t finish the sentence.

I just run.