Page 40 of A Game of Ruck
Because Annabeth deserves someone who shows up, whoseesher, who doesn’t let bullshit like this slide.
And today?That someone is me.
A wave of too tight satin shifts as the girls freeze mid-blink, like I’ve just asked them to recite pi backward.
“What?”Lisa blinks.A little too fast.
“Oh, well, you know,” Brittany pipes up, twirling a strand of over-straightened hair.“Annabeth isn’t really into girly stuff, right?”
“Well, Lisa asked her, right?”Jasmine adds quickly.“You told me Annabeth said she didn’twantto be a bridesmaid?Like she just wanted to chill and skip all the dress fittings and hair drama?”
“Well—yeah,” Lisa huffs.Her gaze skitters sideways like she knows she’s full of shit.“Annabeth told me she’s not reallythatinto weddings and stuff.”
“Really?And when did Annabeth say that?”I ask, but no one answers.
Because Lisa is full of shit.
“Well, there’s also the bridesmaid dresses,” another one—Courtney?—mutters before immediately backpedaling.“I mean, not that Annabeth wouldn’t look good in it.It’s just that Lisa had a really specific vision, and the boutique only carried up to a size—well, never mind.I mean Annabeth, it’s not personal.”
Not personal?
Bull.Fucking.Shit.
I glance down at Annabeth.
Her smile is tight.
Her eyes sayplease don’t make this worse.
But I can’t let it slide.
I take her hand in mine and face the pastel plastics across the table like I’m lining up for a goddamn scrum.
“Well, that’s a shame,” I say, my voice low and clear enough that half the room is now pretending not to eavesdrop.“Because Annabeth in anything—and I mean anything—would make the rest of you look like background extras.”
Jasmine’s mouth drops open.
Brittany makes a noise that sounds like a choking gasp.
Lisa glares at me like I’ve just ruined her rehearsal dinner.
And I couldn’t give two shits about the spoiled female.
So, I just keep going.
“If any of you bothered to really talk to Annabeth, you would know she’s smart.She’s real.She’s funny as hell.And as far as looks are concerned?The woman is a damn goddess without even trying.She doesn’t need your dresses or youraesthetic.Trust me—she doesn’t need your approval, either.”
Annabeth stares up at me, blinking fast.
And shit, maybe I’ve gone too far.
Maybe I’ve just dragged a wrecking ball through years of buried pain and complicated family politics.
But when she squeezes my hand?
I know I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Because no one—no one—gets to treat her like she’s less than.
