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“Gray…”

I find her staring at her phone. I guess she decided to turn it on. “He finally got in contact?”

All she does is nod before handing me her phone. What I find on the screen makes my blood boil. A string of messages from Chris fills the text window. They get progressively more aggressive at her continued silence.

Chris:

Where are you?

This isn’t funny, Kylie. What the fuck do you mean you left?

Nothing? You’re just going radio silent on me?

Kylie. Answer your phone. I’m starting to get worried.

It’s been almost twenty-four hours. Respond so I know you’re okay.

I’m going to call the police.

I swear to god, if you’re with fucking Grayson, you will not like the consequences.

GODDAMMIT, KYLIE. Answer your fucking phone.

You’re such a bitch. I would never have done something so fucking immature.

Fine. If this is how you want to play it. I’ll bite. Be prepared when you can’t handle the shitstorm YOU’RE creating. This is your mess, and you’ll have to deal with it when you come crawling back to me.

Please, Kylie. Call me back. I’m sorry I got angry. I’m just so out of my head with worry.

When I look at Kylie, she’s biting her fingernail. Her amber eyes are filled with worry as she searches for something in my face.

“Should I call him?”

“No. These texts are proof that he won’t be rational if you talk to him right now. I’m going to screenshot them and send them to Holt. The timestamps prove it took him three days to even notice you were gone.”

“What am I going to do? He’s going to be pissed when he finds out I want a divorce.”

I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her into my chest. “That’s not your burden to bear, Ladybug. He could’ve handled this like a mature, rational adult, but he’s the one who cheated on you, and then chose to go nuclear. You can’t be afraid to do what’s best for you.”

Kylie pulls back enough to look up at me. “I’m not sure what I would do without you, Gray.”

“You’ll never have to find out.”

* * *

“Can I just say how pumped I am to have another girl in the group?” Gia asks as she pours the last of the wine into her glass. She’s pulled her hair up into a messy bun and is in a T-shirt and jeans to keep things casual, at her insistence.

After I sent Holt the screenshots of Chris’s texts, he invited Kylie, London, and me over for dinner. He suggested having an informal meeting if Kylie was feeling up for it. Now, Holt’s two girls and London are upstairs playing while the four of us adults sit at the table chatting.

Holt raises his dark eyebrows at her. My best friend is a handsome bastard even if he’d be embarrassed by me saying so. His wavy dark hair has grown long over the last few months, which tells me his caseload has been intense. It makes me even more grateful for his willingness to dive into Kylie’s divorce so quickly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Farrah, Gwen, and I can only handle so much testosterone on our own. Anytime you four and your brothers get together, it’s a sausage fest. We need all the uteruses we can get.”

I bark out a laugh as Kylie hides hers with her hand. Holt’s affronted expression is priceless. Gia isn’t wrong. Between Holt and me, our two other best friends, Knox and Emmett, and Holt’s five brothers, it can be a lot when we get together.

Gia shrugs unrepentantly. “Anyway, we’re glad you’re home, Kylie. We’ll have a whine night soon without the boys. And I’m spelling that with an H, by the way, although we drink enough actual wine for it to be true no matter how we spell it.”

Kylie grins. “I’m so there.”