Page 119 of The Love You Win

His jaw ticks. “Come sit down. We have some things to discuss.”

Great. Here comes another lecture about how I need to stop instigating fights and taking pictures with female fans until all of this blows over. And from Wright, of all people. I swear to god, the world has gone topsy-turvy.

I follow Griffin into his living room. He sits on an armchair and I fold myself into the couch. Neither of us speaks at first. He just stares at me until I can’t take it anymore.

“I know what you’re going to say,” I growl. “And you can save it. I’ll clean up my image again somehow. And yeah, it sucks about the sponsorship, but there’ll be others.”

My best friend’s lips purse, and he shakes his head. “That wasn’t what I was going to say at all. Not even close.”

Shifting in my seat, I cock a brow at him. “What then? Spit it out, Wright.”

“Have you spoken to Isla?” He leans forward, his elbows on his knees. There’s something in his expression I don’t like.

“No. And I wish you assholes would drop it. There’s no point. She’s a backstabbing gold digger just like the rest of them.” I hate the words even as they spill from my mouth like poison. I hate them for being true, and I hate myself for the hollow pang they elicit in my chest.

Griffin’s face contorts into a deep frown. “I can’t believe I spent the last couple of months being jealous of you. Fucking idolizing you, man.”

“What?” What is he talking about?

“I spent so many years hoping someone would come along and see past my bullshit happy-go-lucky persona and the jokes and the sleeping around. Do you know how long I looked for my person? And every time I thought I found her, my stupid curse twisted everything up.” Wright rises from his seat and paces in front of me. He punctuates his words with jerky hand gestures or rakes his fingers through his hair.

“I know you think you’re cursed, but what does that have to do with me?”

“Because you had that,” he shouts, turning to face me. His hazel eyes are full of emotion. Judgment and pity and anger. It makes no sense. “You fucking had it, Graves, and you blew it.”

“How the hell did I blow it?” I push to my feet. My body vibrates with anger at his words. “She betrayed me, Wright. She was using me. None of it was real. I feel like a complete fool.”

“You should,” he says derisively. “You really should feel like a fool because you had a woman who was head over heels in love with you. She loved you enough to push past her discomfort with the media attention and the bitchy fans, even though they made her feel like she wasn’t good enough for you. She loved you enough to put her heart on the line, even though she was scared to be vulnerable with anyone after how her ex dumped her. She loved you enough to stand up for herself and you when that shitty ex caught her off guard and cornered her at work.”

What?

“She loves you and you didn’t even give her a chance to explain what happened. She’s spent every day since you dumped her completely clueless about why you did it.” His glare causes me to take a step back. “She thinks you dumped her because she’s not good enough for you. Told me she knows she’s not the prettiest or the smartest or best for your image.” He barks out an incredulous laugh.

I’m lost and confused.

“Can you believe that shit? That woman has been sitting at home, crying herself to sleep, and she thinks you dropped her because she wasn’t fake and perky enough for you.” Griffin shakes his head. “I’d fucking kill to be loved the way that woman loves you.”

My gut twists. A deep sense of dread churns inside of me.

“And the worst part?” I’ve never seen my best friend look so disgusted. “All of this could have been avoided if you’d simply brought up what you overheard like an adult and let her explain what happened. But you didn’t. You jumped to the wrong fucking conclusion, and you broke her, man.” He runs both hands through his hair. “You had the kind of love I’ve always dreamed about and you walked away from it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” My voice sounds strained and reedy, even to my ears. “Explain, Griff. You’re not making any sense.”

Griffin sighs. He flops back onto the chair and deflates. “She’s not a gold digger. Never was. When I told her what you heard her say, you should have seen her face, Madds. She turned white as a fucking ghost.”

I don’t like where this is going.

“Seems you missed the first part of that conversation. And the end of it. Her prick of an ex tried to get her back. When he wouldn’t leave her alone, she got sarcastic with him.”

My stomach churns.

“And then she told him in no uncertain terms that you were ten thousand times the man that human skid-mark could ever hope to be, that she wouldn’t care if you were broke as a joke because she loved you, and to get out and never contact her again.”

No. That’s not possible.

“I think I would know if she was being sarcastic,” I say. Because he can’t be right. So I dig my heels in and ignore the way my stomach rolls. All he has is Isla’s word, and right now, that’s not good enough. Not after what I heard. She could have made all of this up to get Wright’s sympathy and play me for a fool.

Just like Candace.

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