Page 84 of Only Ever You

“That’s better.” He beams. “Anyway, I thought I might crash here tonight and go home tomorrow. We can spend the evening hanging out. Maybe watch some of that trashy reality TV you like.”

“I’d like that.”

Lucas pushes himself off the couch. “I’ll be back in a minute. I’ve got a bag in the car—was hoping you were going to agree.”

“It’s not like I could stop you from staying.”

He laughs. “I’m glad I’m here.”

“Me too.”

The one thing I’m grateful for is that this whole thing has brought Lucas and me closer. For the longest time I was angry at him driving Deacon away—I didn’t speak to him for a year after Deacon and his father left town.

But he’s been there for me this whole time. He’s just on the other end of the phone when I need someone to listen to me, and he never judges me.

I still wish he’d never gone anywhere near Elise Miller, but there’s no erasing the past.

The door clicks as he comes back in, and I pick up the remote. “Want anything in particular?”

“No, you pick. Do you want pizza? Does Tommy still deliver?”

I look over my shoulder at my brother disappearing into a bedroom. “He does. Number’s on the fridge.”

He flicks on the bathroom lights before closing the door. I keep scrolling through movies, pausing occasionally before moving on. I’m the worst at picking something when there’s so much choice.

The bathroom door opens.

“Uhhh, Pip?”

“Yep?” I flick between channels.

“Is there something else you want to tell me?”

Shit.

I close my eyes. I’m so used to being alone that I didn’t stop and think that someone else would be using the bathroom. Slowly, I turn, cringing as he waves around the white stick I peed on this afternoon.

Holding up my palms, I shrug. “Maybe?”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Deacon

A soft hand curls around my wrist, and long, red-painted talons gently scrape against my skin.

“Want to come up to my room?”

The bottle blonde attached to the hand is pretty—I’ll give her that. But she’s all wrong. She’s thin to the point of probably dangerous where Pippa is curvy. Her hair’s not the right colour. And Pippa knows how to have fun without getting tanked on champagne.

Her lips, stained as red as her nails, curve into a sly smile.

“No thanks.”

One perfect eyebrow lifts. “We could have a lot of fun.”

As far as fucking Pippa out of my system goes, I can’t. Even if I wanted to, I’m nowhere near ready for anyone else—even a meaningless fling.

“I’m not interested.”

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