Page 31 of Undeniable

“You seem pretty hung up on her still. Do you think it would be worth reliving those mistakes if it meant moving forward?”

Whether he was right or not, I didn’t appreciate being called out for it. It irritated me how right he was. It was done, or better yet, it was supposed to be, and I didn’t need anyone bringing up the fact that nothing had been resolved.

Grady approached, and both Devon and I switched to beer. While I waited for another drink, I fidgeted with the Murphy’s Law coaster in front of me. Peeling up the edges, I decided I was done talking about Ivy. And the best way to change the subject? Deflect.

“This coming from a guy who still can’t get over a woman he hasn’t seen in two years. No matter how much hurt she caused.”

Devon’s eyes flashed up to mine, and I knew I fucked up when all I saw was thinly veiled hurt shining back at me.Fuck.

The man had been through hell. His mother had been diagnosed with cancer when we were in college and he’d done his damnedest since to take care of her and his younger sister. His dad wasn’t in the picture, so he felt it necessary to take on all the responsibility.

He’d done a damn good job and never complained, even when the girl he was in love with slept with our best friend. Luke and Blakely had a short-lived relationship if that’s even what you would call it. They slept together a few times because Luke was in a bad place after his divorce. And in Luke’s defense, I don’t think he had any idea that Devon was hung up on Blakely. Nor did anyone else besides me.

It quickly ended, though, when Luke’s ex-wife, Valerie, began threatening Blakely.

Devon wasn’t very open about his feelings for Blakely, but like he knew me, I knew him. And even when Valerie came back around when Hazel and Luke began dating, and Blakely wound up in the middle of her kidnap plot against Hazel, Devon still held that torch. Even if it was incinerating his hand.

Blakely disappeared after Valerie successfully kidnapped Hazel, and none of us had heard from her since.

My comment was the lowest of low blows. Out of all of us, Devon was the closest to Blakely. She’d been there for Devon and his mom through her cancer treatment up until the day she disappeared.

I was the worst type of friend.

“Man, I’m sorry, I just—”

“I get it. You don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it.” Our beers arrived right on time for Devon to tilt his back and down half of it in one go. With his elbows braced on the bar top and his eyes trained on the TV, he’d effectively shut down the conversation.

In trying to keep the heat off myself, I’d brought up the worst possible memories for my own best friend. God, my head was a fucking disaster. And it wasn’t only affecting me anymore.

“She’s never left me,” I offered, hoping one last small piece of honesty would serve as a truce. “I’ve carried her with me for thirteen years.”

ELEVEN

James

Thirteen Years Ago

We were goingto be late. But based on the way she clung to me and I held her, neither of us cared.

After graduation, both of our parents had relaxed on our curfews, but Ivy’s dad was always suspicious after she’d been out all day.

June was almost over, and we’d done well keeping our secret.

Sneaking out of windows, lying through our teeth about who we were with and what our plans were, we’d become pros at all of it.

The only person who’d guessed it was Shelby, which wasn’t a surprise. She and Ivy spent almost every other day together, so when Ivy began changing up her schedule to hang out with me, it didn’t go unnoticed by her best friend.

But they were both heading out of state to play volleyball at the same school so they’d get their fair share of time together. Ivy and I, however, had limited time left.

Our month together had been perfectly imperfect. We bickered almost as much as we laughed, but neither of us seemed to mind. It was bound to happen when two people who were opposite in so many ways spent that much time together.

And our arguments were always light and fun. It had almost become our own twisted version of foreplay.

Teaching her how to bend and break the rules was my new favorite hobby. She’d balked at my suggestion that she slip out her window the first time and nearly had a panic attack when we’d finally made it to my truck. But only a week or two in, she’d started to understand and crave the high of doing the opposite of what you were supposed to do. Ms. Goody Two-shoes had turned the tables.

At a fundraiser her mom coordinated, Ivy pulled me into a random supply closet at the community center. In the closet, pressed against unsteady shelves of cleaning products, I’d made her come for the first time on my fingers.

Her happy glow was one I’d replicated many times over since then.

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