Page 113 of Repairing the Wreckage

I blow out an irritated breath. “She was surprised. But not mad.”

“Anyone recognize you?”

I roll my eyes. “Some girl wrote her number on the coffee I bought for Molly, so that sucked.”

He snorts with laughter. “You’re famous now.”

“That’s what Molly said! It’s not true.” I set my fork against the plate with a harsh clang. “Stop saying that. All this ‘fame’ feels more like punishment.”

“All right. Calm down.” He sips his coffee. “What’d you do about the phone number?”

“Took the coffee back and asked the manager to make me another one.”

He frowns. “Was Molly upset?”

“No.” I grin. “She showed me her dorm room.”

His frown deepens.

“She wanted to drop off her coat and boots instead of dragging them to class with her.”

“Ah, yeah. Flaw in my master plan.” He taps the side of his head.

“You’re such a dick.”

“How’d you do on those three flights of stairs?” He lifts his chin, indicating my bad knee.

Under the table I rub my hand over my thigh and knee, gently testing the inflamed joint. “Fine. Just took it slow. She showed me where one of her classes is, too. Did you know her professor locks them out if they’re late?”

“Yeah, she told me.”

“That’s some bullshit.”

He shrugs. “I told her if he ever pulls that crap on her, I’ll have a chat with him. She didn’t appreciate the offer.”

Since I’m guilty of having the same thought, I chuckle and pick up my fork again. “Her room’s so tiny. I can’t believe she shares it with someone else.”

“Yeah, for the amount they’re charging, she could probably rent an entire house. But she wanted the ‘full college experience.’” He grins, not at all bothered by the expense.

Remy probably didn’t mean to, but he’s given me all sorts of ideas for the future.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Molly

“Are you sure you don’t want to stick around this weekend?” Denise pleads with me Friday afternoon.

“I can’t. I promised to help my brother out at the bar.” Guilt prickles over my scalp at the lie. I promised to go with her to a frat party at another school not far from our campus.

But a crowded frat house where I don’t know anyone and I have to guard my drink with my life is the last thing I feel like doing with my limited free time. Remy hadn’t asked me to help him at the bar but maybe I’ll work a few hours there tomorrow night so I don’t feel so guilty for lying to Denise.

“But you go home every weekend,” she implores.

Only every weekend since I found out Griff was back.

Well, even before Griff returned, I went home on the weekends pretty frequently.

At least Remy doesn’t seem to mind that I return so often. Part of me had worried as soon as I moved into the dorms, he’d change the locks and be annoyed if I returned on the weekends. But so far, he seems happy whenever I text him to say I’m coming home. Best of all, he’s been keeping his usual parade of one-night stands away from the house when I’m there.

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