Page 120 of All of Me

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his gaze fixed on the ground. Then he exhales sharply. “Fine,” he mutters. “I’ve been checking in on her, okay?”

“Checking in?” I repeat, frowning.

“Yeah,” he says, his tone defensive. “Because I don’t trust that piece of shit Alex to stay gone.”

The mention of Alex makes my stomach tighten, and I straighten slightly. “Has he been around?”

“No,” Will says quickly, shaking his head. “Not yet, anyway. But guys like him don’t just disappear. I don’t trust him, and I don’t like the idea of Sabrina dealing with him alone if he does show up.”

The conviction in his voice surprises me, and I find myself reassessing the situation. Will might be a lot of things—cocky, reckless, a pain in my ass—but he’s also loyal.

“So you’re just… keeping an eye on her?” I ask, my tone more neutral now.

“Pretty much,” he says, shrugging. “She’s got enough on her plate without worrying about that asshole popping up out of nowhere.”

I nod slowly, mulling over his words. “And Sabrina knows this?”

Will smirks. “She’s not exactly thrilled about it, but yeah. She knows.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Let me guess, she told you to mind your own business.”

“More or less,” he says, grinning. “ You know how she is, stubborn as hell. I’m not about to back off just because she doesn’t like it.”

I shake my head, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “You’re a glutton for punishment.”

“Maybe,” he says, chuckling. “But someone’s gotta do it.”

We fall into a comfortable silence, the tension from earlier fading as the sun dips lower in the sky. As much as I want to give him grief about this, I can’t ignore the truth in his words. If Alex does show up again, Sabrina’s going to need someone in her corner.

“Well,” I say finally, pushing off the truck. “If anything happens, you let me know. Got it?”

Will nods, his expression serious. “You’ll be the first call, Klein.”

“Good,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

Will grins, grabbing his gloves as we climb into the truck. The drive back is quiet, the weight of the conversation lingers between us. As the miles stretch out behind us, I feel better a little knowing someone’s looking out for Sabrina, especially if that someone is one of my best friends.

forty-three

HAVEN’T MET YOU YET - MICHAEL BUBLÉ

CALLIE - AUGUST 20, 2014

The warm scent of coffee and baked goods greets me as I step intoBrooked & Brewed, our usual meeting spot. The café is buzzing with its usual morning crowd—commuters clutching their travel mugs like lifelines, a group of older women knitting aggressively in the corner, and a college student passed out over his laptop, drooling onto the keyboard.

A guy near the window flips through a well-worn copy ofTwilight, looking deeply invested. Next to him, the shop’s small bookshelf overflows with donated books, some classics, some more questionable choices. A tattered copy ofVampire Academyrests on top of the pile, the spine nearly broken from being read so many times. Brooke once argued that book donation systems like this were “basically the library, but with more coffee and less judgment.” I think she just liked having access to smutty romance novels while she drank her caramel macchiatos.

Taylor is already at our favorite corner table, scrolling through her phone with the deeply concentrated expression of someone who is either rage-reading an email or deciding whether or not to throw her phone into traffic. Meanwhile, Brooke is at the counter, practically holding court with the barista. Her laughter carries across the café, loud and unapologetic, earning a few startled looks. A man near the pastry case actually jumps, clutching his muffin like it just personally betrayed him.

I shake my head, smirking as I approach the table. “Hey, you two,” I say, shrugging off my coat and sliding into the seat next to Taylor.

She barely looks up from her phone, but the smirk on her face is immediate. “Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to show up. I was starting to think Owen locked you in a basement somewhere.”

I snort. “Honestly? I wouldn’t even be mad about that if it meant I actually got to see him. Sounds kinky.”

“Ohh, what’s kinky?” Brooke’s voice cuts in as she appears beside us, expertly balancing a tray of three coffees and an assortment of pastries. She sets everything down with a flourish, eyes sparkling with mischief.

I grab my coffee and take a slow, appreciative sip before giving her a knowing look. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I tease, earning an exaggerated gasp from Brooke.

---