Page 171 of What's Left of Us

Before I close myself inside, I sigh. “And thank you. For…everything. I don’t know what I’d do without your help.”

Conklin chuckles. “Now Iknowyou’re tired. You’re getting sappy on me.” I flip him off, causing his chuckle to turn into a snort. “Lucky for you, you’ll be stuck with my ass until the day one of us retires. Can’t get rid of me that easy.”

Rolling my eyes, I close the door and turn at the mess of papers and folders scattered everywhere.

Leaning against the door, I drop my head back and think about what Conklin said. I love Georgia, but do I hate the thought of her father being right more?

*

A few dayslater, Conklin and I walk into our favorite deli for lunch. We barely walk through the front door when we stop at the same time when we see the people across the room.

Conklin grabs my arm. “Don’t,” he says quietly when Georgia steps into Luca’s arms.

Hot, boiling anger fuels a fire that burns under my skin.

My friend’s grip on me tightens when my wife looks in my direction and freezes. But she doesn’t step away from the man she ran away from all those years ago.

Conklin quietly says, “Come on, Hawk. It’s not worth it.”

Isn’t it though? My muscles tense when she meets my eyes, and I see the decision in them then and there. She stands to her full height and steps into him, dipping her head in the crook of his neck and wrapping her arms around him like she’s seeking comfort.

Forget about anger.

Rage is what takes over my limbs.

Conklin tugs on me when I step forward, dragging me to the door with more force than I thought he had in him. He pushes me out and stands in front of me to block my reentry. “Go. I’ll meet you out there in a minute.”

My eyes flicker from him to the woman who’s still wearing my ring.

Swallowing, I make myself nod.

Because what the hell can I do? Punching him clearly didn’t work, so there’s no point in making a scene by doing it again.

Defeat has me standing down, letting him close the door that separates me and them.

Before I walk to the car, I see Georgia approach Conklin as he talks to the person behind the counter. She touches his arm and says something to him.

Not me.

She doesn’t try to reassure me.

Doesn’t try to comfort me.

My nostrils flare.

Chest inflating with hot air, I peel my gaze from the window and make an escape before I change my mind about going inside.

It’s not worth it.

She’s not worth it.

I don’t believe the lie.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Georgia/ Two Years Ago

The tense musclesunder my arm flex as Matt Conklin peels his arm away from me. “Please,” I whisper, swallowing the burning hurt rising up my throat. “You have to get him to stop.”

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