Page 173 of Holding On To Good

He studied her for a moment. “But you wanted to be.”

“Ugh,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. “Since when did you become insightful?”

She would’ve kept her eyes shut—if only so she didn’t have to see the sympathy in Eli’s expression—but with them closed, the memory of McKenna’s picture popped into her brain, so she opened them again.

“He didn’t want me,” she admitted and to her absolute horror and the utter decimation of her pride, her voice was hoarse.

“He’s an idiot,” Eli said, tone clear and indisputable. “And not worthy of you.”

Nodding, she cleared her throat. “I know.”

But it still hurt.

“Verity—”

“It’s fine,” she assured him before he could start rambling about how awesome she was, how smart and funny and pretty, and how it shouldn’t matter if some boy didn’t like her, that she had to love herself and all that junk. “I’m fine.”

And she was. It wasn’t like she needed this drama in her life. Even if she wasn’t leaving at the end of the summer, she knew better than to get tangled up with the likes of Reed Walsh.

“Know what’s not fine?” Eli asked. “You begging me to hook you up with one of my teammates. Or friends. Or anyone I’m acquainted with.”

“First of all, there was no begging involved.” She wasn’t that desperate. God. “Secondly, the only reason I did that was to prove I’m moving on. And if that makes a certain someone regret his poor choices and causes him to suffer a huge amount of torment and misery, then I’m hardly going to say no to it, am I?”

Miles wasn’t the only Jennings who could hold a grudge.

“Unless his head is up his ass,” Eli said, “he already knows what he lost and he’s been kicking himself ever since.”

She thought about McKenna’s post. Remembered the things Reed had said to her that night at the lake. “Oh, his head is definitely up his ass.”

“Then you’re better off without him.”

That was such a big brother thing to say, she had to hold back an eye roll, but it was also kind of sweet. Her brothers always had her back.

“Thanks,” she said, sliding to her feet as she heard Ian’s footsteps on the stairs. “I gotta go. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

She ended the call, but instead of going on with her life, wiser and resolved to put all Reed related events in the past where they belonged, she opened Instagram once again.

And stared at Reed’s image, that torment and misery she’d wished upon him settling in her bones instead.

Letting Reed’s pretty face and her own hormones overcome her common sense was a huge mistake. Falling for the overused good-girl-saves-bad-boy cliché was naïve.

Convincing herself Reed held secret, conflicted feelings for her was just plain dumb.

But mistakes could be fixed. Naivety could be overcome.

And even a stupid, stupid girl could be taught.

Especially when the lesson had been so incredibly clear.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The moment Willow stepped into Urban’s living room, she sensed a trap.

One that smelled suspiciously like lasagna and, she realized as she crossed to the kitchen, looked alarmingly like a romantic dinner for two.

The table was set with his mom’s antique china, crystal wineglasses and three squat, unlit candles. A bottle of Willow’s favorite Pinot Noir breathed next to a bowl of salad and a steaming pan of lasagna cooled on the center island next to a mixed bouquet of sunny yellow roses and yellow and white daisies.

---