Page 99 of Embody

Thirty-Two

JT

WHAT THE HELLjust happened?

Everything was great, my girl was happy and now she looks as though someone told her they got her a puppy…but ran it over before they could give it to her. And I haven’t the first fucking clue why.

We pull into the parking lot of the concert venue, and damn well knowing better, she flings her door open before I can do it for her and jumps out.

And nowI’mpissed. Which means, the silent treatment tantrum I let her have on the drive over ends immediately. I refuse to be punished without at least knowing what I did wrong.

“Bellamy,” I growl, striding her way and blocking her path. “Enough brooding. Talk.” I balance the harshness in my tone with a gentle hand on her arm. “Just tell me how I screwed up and I’ll fix it. You and I both know it’s burning a hole in your tongue to school me, so please do.”

“This isn’t a “girl” answer, okay?” She sighs, hiding her face in my chest. “You really didn’t do anything wrong, at all. I’m just being silly. Can we forget about it and enjoy our night? Please?”

“Hey,” I lift her chin with a finger, peering down into heartbreaking, despondent pools of aquamarine. “Damn, baby girl, you’re killing me. What’s wrong?”

Like a magic trick, her expression and the air around her instantly shift back to that of the feisty, optimistic girl I know. “Nothing, I promise,” she smiles too wide and clips too loud, lacing her fingers through mine and pulling. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

Something still looms over us, but she’s made it clear that no amount of my pestering is gonna get her to talk until she’s damn good and ready, so I push it aside for later and lead us to the gate.

The line moves surprisingly fast and right inside the lobby awaits the rest of our group…and Sutton?

“There you are!” Brynn all but pummels Bellamy, pulling her from me while Presley flanks her other side. “I havegotto pee, figured we’d go as a group and get it out of the way. You guys wait right here,” my sister barks at us and the three of them take off toward the bathroom.

“What are you doing here?” I ask Sutton, shifting so I can keep an eye on the girls while they wait in line.

“I plead the fifth,” he laughs. “Came to a concert, not my death.”

And I would have to actually kill him, as in the use of weaponry, ‘cause his big ass wouldn’t go down any other way.

Yeah, he’s not being ominous at all. Surely he figures I’ll let that go. Unless of course, he remembers who I am.

“What’s that mean? You put it out there, man up and finish,” I snarl, in two part—his weird vibe and the fact Bellamy’s now out of sight.

“They’re fine,” Ryder laughs. “That’s Brynn’s shirt just inside the door, they moved forward in line. I’m watching.”Good man.

“Okay,” I shoot him a look of appreciation. “Now you, finish,” I scowl at Sutton.

“Well,” he drawls, rubbing the back of his neck, “I saw Brynn at the store this morning…”

He’s outnumbered now, ‘cause Ryder cuts one eye his way with a more than interested brow lift at the mention of Brynn’s name, quickly returning his focus to the bathroom, but ears still perked.

“And,” Sutton continues, “she might’ve mentioned that Presley was coming tonight. And that she’s currently single. So, I called a buddy and snagged a ticket. Can you blame me?”

Ryder and I let out simultaneous, relieved breaths. Sutton really took the scenic route on that story, causing very unnecessary alarm. Presley’s not only older than me, and obstinate as all fuck…but she’s perfectly capable, proven many times over, of handling her own shit. Honestly, I’m more worried for Sutton at this point. He has no clue what trouble he’s inviting upon himself.

“No death happening here,” I laugh. “Unless it’s at the hands of Presley.”

“I heard that,” Ryder joins in my laughter. “She’s a pistol. Good luck, man,” he slaps Sutton on the shoulder.

“I like ‘em fiery, and hot as hell. Presley Beckett,” a sharp breath whistles between his teeth, “can do any damn thing she wants to me. With those hands. And mouth. And-”

“Got it,” I cut him off. “Still my cousin, thanks.”

“Still your cousin, what?” Presley asks, the girls now back.

“Nothing,” I groan. “Forget it.”

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