Page 59 of So Wrong It Must Be Right

“I don’t know either. But if you’re willing to put a building over love, then I don’t really want to be your friend.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Dinah said, tears spilling over again, her heart cracking into pieces no matter how hard she tried to hold it together.

“Isn’t it?”

Dinah had never been so confused or lost in her entire life. She never in her wildest dreams would have thought her friendship with Kayla would end, would change. But she didn’t know how to bridge this gap.

“I guess I’ll see you around then,” Dinah muttered, heading for the door.

“Yeah,” Kayla replied.

And that was it. Walking out of Kayla’s apartment, it felt like . . . like a million things had felt in the past year, and she had to shove it down, shove it away, because if she let it, it would win. Demolish her.

It wasn’t denial, it was survival.

Instead of heading for Carter and his Front Yard Farm, where she’d been spending all of her non-Gallagher’s time lately, she headed home.

Like so many things in her life, no one could fix this for her, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t find a way to fix it herself. Kayla was wrong. She had to be.

* * *

Carter had never been one for poking his nose in other people’s business, especially the business of women he was sleeping with. He’d typically had plenty of his own issues to focus on. Why take on someone else’s?

Dinah was different, because of course she was. She had beendifferentfrom the start.

That didn’t mean he particularly liked sitting in front of her apartment door like some lovelorn idiot. Or that he had any damn clue what he’d say to her when she showed up.

“Suck it up, Trask,” he muttered. He’d partnered with Gallagher’s, of all damn places, because of Dinah. The least he could do was see the whole . . . relationship aspect through.

Something had happened with her grandmother today, and the supportive boyfriend type person needed to stand up and support and comfort.

Shit, what had he gotten himself into?

“Carter?”

He turned to Dinah, who was walking down the hallway to her apartment. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She paused before slowly taking steps toward him. “I . . .” She let out a breath and he thought she was maybe trying to smile, but it was mostly just a grimace.

“We don’t have to talk about things,” he said, hoping to put her somewhat at ease.

She blinked and looked down as she approached her door. “I’m not really up for sex either.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling like an idiot. “That’s not what I meant. No. I just . . .” He watched as she unlocked her door, looking as fragile as he’d ever seen her. Maybe he hadn’t known her for that long, but he knew this wasn’tlikeher.

“I just wanted to be, like, supportive or whatever.”

She pushed her door open and looked at him quizzically. “Supportive?”

“You’re going through something, and you don’t want to talk about it yet, but I didn’t . . . You didn’t say you wanted to be alone, so . . . Am I fucking this all up?”

“No.” She stepped inside, then pulled him in behind her. “You’re being very sweet after a day when people have been . . . not, and I don’t know how to . . .” She shut the door behind him and flicked the deadbolt. Then she leaned against the door and took a deep, shuddery breath.

“I just wanted to . . . You know, when you care about someone you want to give them what they need when they’re struggling.”

“I don’t know what I need.”

“How about we start with this.” He pulled her into his arms, gathering her close and hoping to offer some kind of comfort. Not words, not sex, just . . . that thing he and his sisters had done after Mom had died. You rallied around, you held on, you gave what you could and hoped it was some measure of comfort.

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