Page 42 of This

Regardless of how much I’ve tried to forget, my body remembers him when he pulls me into a hug. My arms automatically go around him, my cheek to his chest, and my shoulders relax when he rubs the nape of my neck. While he sighs into my hair, I have a perfect view of the couch. I flash to him shoving up my crushed velvet skirt when I was sixteen. Considering it a warning shot, I back against the ottoman again to get some space.

“Let’s bail. Go somewhere to catch up.” He reaches out to move my hair back from my face, but I dodge.

“Shouldn’t you check with your girlfriend first?” I’m baiting him. I have no idea if he has one.

“Come on,” he drawls. “Don’t be like that.”

“Be like what? The girl who won’t mess with a guy who has a girlfriend?” I throw enough bitch behind it that he rubs his jaw. Right hand, left side.

“You think, out of the two of us, I don’t have more of a reason to be pissed? You threw my shit in a pond.”

“Lake,” I correct. “And only what you left at my apartment.”

After catching him texting yet another girl—four was apparently my limit—I left him on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. By the time he caught up with me, I’d set most of his stuff adrift. Liam was my accomplice. We’d only met a few minutes earlier, so the experience really bonded us.

With my brain re-boarding the anti-Bentley train, I scoop down for my phone and drink, and when he doesn’t move to let me through, I open my texts. “Who do you think will get here first, your brothers or Liam?”

“Liam.” The voice comes from behind Bentley, and my eyes dart to the front of the room. Liam presses his shoulder into the archway leading to the hallway. “Everything good, Bentley?”

Bentley passes over his jaw again before he spins around. “Yeah. I was just saying hey.”

Liam pushes off the wall, his expression neutral. “And now, you can go say it to everyone else.” He walks farther into the room and holds out a cup. “Mind taking Keaton her drink?”

“Sure.” Bentley glances back at me and gives a smile. “You look good, Lex.”

I pick at the case on my phone until he looks away.

The two of them meet in the middle of the room, and as Liam hands him the cup, Bentley pats him on the back.

“Congrats on the engagement, man.”

Liam gives a tight smile in response. He rotates his upper body to watch Bentley leave the room, then turns back to me. “You okay?”

I shrug, still looking at the hallway. “Nothing I haven’t handled before.”

The first time we broke up, we saw each other a week later at a family reunion. He brought a date. I sobbed in the park restroom for an hour with Keaton’s arms wrapped around my heaving shoulders and a weird sludge in the floor drain a few feet away.

Liam waits while I gulp down my drink and extends an elbow. I hook my arm through his and let him lead me into the hall. “You wouldn’t happen to know what Lincoln did with the Jäger, do you?”

“Not happening, Ross.”

We round the corner into the kitchen as Keaton barrels in from the other side. “Bastard,” she says, beelining for us. “Did he touch you?” She grabs my face in her hands to search for signs of impending waterworks. “Just say the word, and I’ll lose his wedding invitation.”

“He’s an usher. Do you even send him an invite?”

Her eyes drift up in thought. “I have no idea.”

“All right”—Liam catches Keaton by the middle and drags her backward—“enough drama. Let’s get back to evading slightly inappropriate questions from fourteen thousand relatives.”

She keeps hold of me as he hauls her out and pulls me with them, straight into a night of awkwardness. A state of being to which I’ve grown quite accustomed. But with bodyguards all around me, Bentley keeps his distance. Our group hovers around the couch with him staying on the opposite end. I keep glancing over—a filthy habit reawakened.

Other than the obvious ex tension, we Christmas with the best of them. The closest we come to an issue is when Ford holds on too long while telling me goodbye. Bentley stands and clears his throat, siblicide in his eyes. Ford and I share an eye roll, and to stick it to his big brother, Lincoln swoops me up and swings me around the living room.

By the time we’re leaving, Liam has enjoyed himself enough that I need to help Keaton shove him into his truck.

“I’m sorry about the gift exchange.” She rushes to the driver’s side. “We’ll come over early tomorrow.”

“Great. Hungover Liam is my favorite type of Liam.” No sarcasm. I find him the most tolerable in that state.

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