Page 96 of A Little Tempting

Without looking at me, he mutters, “Talk about what?”

I want to laugh as I watch him avoid me at all costs, but I bite it back. No use kicking the asshole when he’s down.

“About the fight or the fact you’ve had it out for me since day one,” I tell him. “Or we could always talk about how you lied to Dylan and told her you were the one who kissed her at the costume party when we both know it isn’t the case. Take your pick.”

His shoulders fall, the guilt he’s carrying practically engulfing the bastard. That’s the thing about Everett, though. I want to hate him sometimes, but I can’t. Because he isn’t a bad guy despite his reasoning being skewed sometimes. But I’m tired of waiting for him to have the balls to tell me why, especially after my conversation with Dylan last night.

“I haven’t had it out for you,” he mutters.

I chuckle dryly. “Bullshit.”

He opens his mouth to argue, then nods slowly, giving in. “Fine. I have. But you gotta understand, man. My family is everything to me.”

“Not trying to take anyone’s place, Ev.”

“You broke my trust,” he argues.

“I fucked up,” I volley back at him, “but you can’t tell me you haven’t.”

He nods again, knowing I’m right, as he drinks some more from his mug. “I didn’t want her to get hurt.”

“And you thought lying to her was the solution?”

“It’s complicated?—”

“Tell me this,” I interrupt. “Do you love her or not?”

“Of course, I love her,” he argues.

“But not enough to actually claim her.”

The fight seeps out of him, and he takes a seat on the top patio stair leading to the grass. “It’s not the romantic kind of love.” He shakes his head and sips more coffee, letting the mug dangle from his fingertips as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “She’s one of the best people I know. She’s good. Kind. Innocent. She deserved more than falling for a guy like you and being let down.”

I don’t call him out for having such little faith in me. He’s right to have reservations, but even I can’t deny the sting accompanying it.

“Lying to her, though?” I add. “When she finds out, she’ll never forgive you.”

“Add it to the list.”

“Are you talking about the head injury?” I challenge.

His eyes close, and his head falls forward. Like the memory alone is enough to make him drown in shame. In regret. Disgust. “She’s different than she was before,” he murmurs. “She might not be able to see the difference, but I do. Her parents do. Her brothers do. Her best friends do.” He hesitates. “Before, she was…” He smiles. “She was fucking snarky, man. Wouldn’t take anyone’s shit. And then…then I got pissed, and I hit the puck as hard as I could during a game and…and she collapsed.” He shakes his head again as if he’s picturing it. As if he’d give anything to erase the image of her tiny body falling to the ground. “Just…collapsed. I thought she was dead. I’d never seen her dad run so fast as he raced toward her. Her body…it fucking flopped like a rubber toy or some shit.” His expression tightens, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “They took her to the hospital, you know? Found out it was a brain injury. She could’ve lost her speech. Her ability to wake up entirely. Her complete eyesight. Her personality. Everything. And it was all because I lost my temper. Because I was pissed she scored against my team.” His eyes are glassy as he looks up from his mug. “I can still see her like that, Reeves. In her hospital bed. Tied to tubes and shit. And the migraines after? Fuck, man. You don’t even know. She pukes. She cries. She begs for it to stop. And you have to watch her. Watch her go through it. Fight through it. With your hands tied behind your fucking back. Helpless.”

Helpless.

I know what it’s like to feel helpless. To feel like you’re up against a wall. Like no matter what you do, who you fight, who you beg, it’s out of your control, and for a guy like me or Ev, it’s a hard fucking pill to swallow.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I murmur, knowing how little my words will sink in but needing to say them anyway.

“It was,” he pushes. “Everyone knows it was. They don’t say it, but they know.” His head falls forward, and he shakes it back and forth. “I can’t…I can’t see her like that again. Hurting. Crying. Miserable.” Those bloodshot eyes shoot straight through me as he looks up at me again. “She gets a fucking splinter, and I crumble, Reeves. You have no idea.”

“I’m not gonna hurt her, Ev.”

He draws in a breath, turning back to his cup. “I know you won’t. I lied about the costume party before I knew. Seeing her try to save you last night…the way she fought for you. The way you willingly went with your dad after all the shit he’s put you through… I get it. I don’t even know ifyouget it,” he adds wryly, “but I see it now. You care about her.”

“I do.”

“I’ll back off,” he decides, “ifyou promise to be done with the escort shit.”

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