Page 90 of Inarticulate

“No, you know what he wants you to know and nothing more.”

“Well, that’s enough for me.”

“Good for you. Just don’t expect me to pick you up when he knocks you down.”

She scoffed. “He won’t.” She couldn’t fault Keenan’s commitment to her. She was almost ready to jump on a sword for him, at the very least stick up for him against Dominic’s assault. “If you were a true friend, you’d let him be happy.”

“He’s not happy, Savannah. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. If he was happy, you’d know the truth.”

“I guess we need to agree to disagree.”

“To be honest, I don’t need to do shit. He’s asked more than enough of my family because of you. I’m not giving any more. While you’re with him, don’t bother calling me again.”

Air escaped her lungs in a painful exhale. He was no longer giving her advice. He was laying down the law. Making her choose—him or Keenan.

A childhood of memories flashed through her mind. His smiles, his laughter. The times they’d caused trouble and mischief, along with the unending conversations about all those life or death challenges of school. All of it was there. Just there. Then suddenly it was gone.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I can commit to that.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

She turned the car around, ignoring the desolate road and taunting trees. Sick or not, she needed to see him for a few seconds more. To hold him. To reassure herself that this slight case of apprehension was unwarranted before she spent the night alone.

If it was Penny’s history Dominic was referring to, then it wasn’t a repeat at all. Keenan had told her that much. They’d had a fling. An affair based on sex and nothing else. Just like Savannah’s mistake with Spencer.

What she had with Keenan was deeper.

Steady and sturdy. Yep, they were solid…

“Shit.” She slammed her hands against the steering wheel and cursed her cousin’s name. She had to forget it. Ignore it. Put it to the furthest spot in the back of her mind and throw stones at it.

Whatever jealous, childish obsession the Augustines had over Keenan wasn’t worth fretting over. She was going to make this right. Tomorrow morning she’d call Mathew Rydel and give him the news. She’d admit to falling in love with the competition and assure him, contrary to the truth, that it hadn’t affected her role in Seattle.

Then she’d call Spencer. And her mother. She was going to let the whole world know she was owning her relationship with Keenan. That she knew him better than anyone else and was laying her heart on the line to prove it.

She knew Keenan. She knew what made him laugh and what made him angry. She could read his thoughts and sense his unease. She doubted anyone else in the world could read him better.

His house loomed ahead, the building filled with memories that made her heart grow reassured. She opened his front gates with a press of the remote button, and raised his garage door with another. She wasn’t going to ask for answers. Nope. She was going to stifle that crap. What she was going to do was walk in there, kiss the apprehension from her lungs, and stick by him while he overcame the flu or cold or whatever illness was dragging him down.

She was going to love him just to spite all the people trying to pull her away. She was going to devour every inch of his skin. Mark him with her teeth and savor him with her tongue.

Her grin spread ear to ear as she parked in his garage and cut the engine. This was what was going to get him to open up. She could feel it.

The faint whoosh of running water welcomed her into the house. The soft tumble of her belly accompanied her enthusiastic footfalls down the hall. From the staircase at the front door, she could hear the shower and a soft hum of music from his room. He would be naked. Wet. Entirely lickable.

The higher she climbed, the louder her heart pounded in her ears. The rush of water became clear, and the lyrics floating through the air were almost decipherable. But it was her chest that begged to be heard. This time she wasn’t going to hold back. She was going to say those words. Those three, vulnerable words. Each one slowly. Succinctly.

I love you.

She reached his door and poked her head inside, finding his suitcase still packed near his bedside table. She could see him through the open bathroom door, too, the water cascading down his back, over his ass, along his muscled thighs. He was divine. Truly a magnificent specimen.

Only, the image before her didn’t sit right. Her intuition was sounding an alarm.

He turned toward her, his eyes closed as he scrubbed white foam from his hair. She’d never forget that sight—his gorgeousness, his appeal that was wrapped up in a bundle of pure agonizing torture.

She struggled not to retch as pain exploded in her chest.

There was no radio, no tunes flowing from his cell that sat dormant on his bed. His lips were moving, not in mime or in breath. His mouth was dancing in song, the melodic sound of his voice filling the air.

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