Page 93 of Boss Me

“Jay.” I softened the edges of my voice. “I appreciate that you think our friendship is strong enough to withstand a confession of love, but you never could have returned it. What good would it have done?”

He reached for my hand and sandwiched it between his rough palms. “You know I love you, man—”

I stacked my hand on top of his. “I know. But I let all of that go when Valentine was born. I knew you had what you needed. You were complete. You were so happy. You are so happy.”

He gripped my hand and then pulled back. “So you sold your shares.”

Regret twanged through me, cold and sharp. “I didn’t say I wasn’t jealous. Hurt. And angry.”

“Don’t you want to work with me anymore? I thought this—Synergy”—he waved his hands at the office—“was what you cared most about.”

“I cared about you. And what we built together. And then, then it was too much. When it seemed you didn’t care about it anymore.”

“Fuck, Cooper.” He rubbed his chest. “It’s not that I didn’t care about it. I just had to shuffle my priorities for a minute.”

I clasped a hand around my fist, easing the tension out of it. “And it felt like our friendship—I—was the lowest priority.”

“Way to keep lobbing the grenades, Coop. Let it all out.”

I glared at him. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“No, I’m fucking serious. I’m glad you’re finally telling me how you really feel. I may be a pulverized pile of emotions after this, but it’ll be worth it.”

“Okay.” I rubbed at my knuckles. “Okay.”

“This might be easier with alcohol. You want to go somewhere?”

“No, I—” I rolled back my shoulders. “I quit drinking.”

He blinked his eyes wide. “You what, now?”

“I was a mess when I got to the island. I got blitzed and stayed that way. Until Ben made me stop. And I—I like who I am better without it. Want to go for a run instead?”

“Yeah. Okay. Meet you in the hall in five?”

“You sure you have time? Don’t you have a wife and kids you should be going home to?”

“Coop.” He reached out again and gripped my hand. “You need me. You’re my top priority right now.”

My eyes burned. “Five minutes.”

“Sure thing.” He turned to go.

I grabbed his wrist. “Wait. One more thing. Weston has that…that recording. Of Ben and me. I need it gone.”

A gleam came into his brown eyes, and he cracked his knuckles. “I may have just the bit of code to take care of that. Give me ten minutes to set it up. It can do its job while we run.”

The fewer questions I asked about why he had this code lying around, the better. “Thank you. You’re the best.”

“It’s true, I’m the best coder. I’m still working on the best friend thing.”

My voice was hoarse, straining through my closed-up throat. “That makes two of us. Now get the fuck out of here.”

Our sneakers pounded the pavement, our steps synchronized, as we left downtown behind and headed for the trail that skirted the bay.

“So what do you want to do about the company?” Jackson shot me a glance.

“What do you want to do about it? Let it go, or are you all in?”

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