Page 71 of The Rebound Plan

“I figured as much.”

“Shannon can be emotional, and you got to benefit from that last night.”

I frown, not liking where this is going. “We all got caught up in it a bit, but she didn’t seem any more emotional than you did.”

“That’s your crush colouring how you saw it.” He picked that word carefully. I bet he thought about it all morning, instead of focusing on his golf game. He spun around and around, trying to figure out what word would make me feel small and insignificant. To remind me that how I feel about Shannon is nothing of any importance.

Tell me something I don’t fucking know, jackass. But I shove that thought deep, and shrug. “Yeah, sure. I don’t harbour any illusions, Tiller. I know she’s your wife, and she loves you. She only went along with it because you invited me in.”

You did this to yourself and I won’t let you reframe it any other way.Shove. Deep. Down.

He goes quiet. We slice down the narrow highway, thick trees on either side. Racing towards the inevitable.

“Lose the crush, Armstrong,” he finally says. “She’s not the angel you imagine her to be. She didn’t think twice about helping you cheat on your girlfriend, did she?”

Fuck. Me. “Didn’t cheat on anyone,” I growl before I can stop myself.

He laughs. “We’re all cheaters, buddy. Deep down, even Shannon’s a slut. I’ve never encouraged it, because I knew it would get out of hand quickly, and I was right.”

He called her that last night, too.

It’s one thing in the heat of the moment. It’s another to say it in the cold light of day.

My big, meaty hands ball into fists.

He notices. “Easy, big guy. It’s fine.”

“She was just trying to make you happy. It wasn’t anything to do with me. She thought you wanted to share her. If you regret that?—”

“Don’t give me marriage advice, buddy.”

“Don’t call me buddy if you won’t take it,” I snap back.

He slams on the brakes and wrenches the wheel, skidding his car onto the gravel shoulder. “Get the fuck out of my car.”

“Gladly.” I wrench the door open at the same time as I unbuckle. Then I see Malik’s car behind us, pulling over, too.

“Fuck,” I roar in frustration as I give our teammates my back for a second.

But Max, having thought about how to ambush me all morning, and probably having been a sociopath his entire miserable life, has it in hand.

Instead of pulling back onto the road and leaving me in the dust to explain, he does a U-turn and rolls down his window. “Left my wallet back at the golf course,” he lies to our teammates, easy as can be. Captain Cool with a ready explanation. “Get Rusty back to his place, all right?”

He revs his engine and takes off back the way we came, leaving us in his dust.

I’ve just made everything so much worse. Fuck.

Shannon is in the kitchen with Emery, wearing a damp-looking bathing suit and wrapped in a towel as she eats a salad. They’re laughing together, and they don’t stop when we come in and start pulling out our own lunch options.

“Max had to go back to the course,” I finally say, gruffly.

Shannon’s expression is carefully unsurprised. “He texted me,” she says. “He’s fine. We’ll need to leave as soon as he gets back, though.”

I want to ask what the fuck he said, but that’s between them. I’m on the outside, just fucking everything up.

“Of course.”

Emery glances at her watch, which gets text messages, too. “Excuse me for a second, I have to go call my mom. She’s having a soufflé disaster.”

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