Page 51 of When We Were Reckless
I didn’t care what Evie said. That looked like the real deal. It put a smile on my face and made me feel less guilty for deserting her to run off to California. Even though she’d always encouraged it, had told me she’d disown me if I didn’t, I still worried about leaving her behind. But if Ridge were here for her, she’d have someone who cared about her the same way I did.
I was still smiling when I walked into the kitchen and found Mom working on her laptop. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and sat across from her at the island. I sat there for five whole minutes before she even noticed I was there.
“Hey, baby.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Are you—”
Her phone rang on the countertop, and she held up one finger, indicating that she needed a minute. I grabbed my phone and took yet another virtual tour of UCLA. Then I scrolled through my Instagram and liked all the photos my brothers had posted. Jesse hadn’t posted anything in months and had deleted all the photos of Alessia.
My thumb hovered over the search bar. Then, taking a deep breath, I typed her name. It had been a while since I’d stalked Alessia Rossi’s Instagram. Her feed used to be filled with photos and reels of her and Jesse—#couplegoals—and my stupid heart had been crushed every time I’d seen their smiling faces. So I didn’t know what had possessed me to look her up today.
I scrolled through her photos and stopped at one that caught my eye. I checked the date then double-checked it. She’d posted this photo in April. I stared at her face, the big smile on it as she posed for the camera. Then I studied Jesse’s face, his casual posture, his arm draped around her shoulder. A smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his summer sky eyes. At least, that was what I needed to believe.
And finally, I looked at Shiloh Leroux, standing next to Jesse, his other arm around her shoulders. She was smiling too, but like Jesse, her smile wasn’t as bright as Alessia’s.
I didn’t follow celebrity gossip, but Shiloh Leroux and Brody McCallister’s relationship had been one of the most talked-about stories in the school halls, so it had been nearly impossible not to hear the rumors about Ridge’s brother, Brody. I knew Shiloh was Brody’s girlfriend, so obviously, Jesse knew her too.
But none of this made sense. Why would Jesse have taken Alessia to Shiloh Leroux’s concert in L.A.? In April.Aftershe’d cheated on him.Afterhe’d kissed me on Christmas Eve. Like I needed more proof that the kiss had meant nothing to him.
“Looks like I have to go to New York next week,” my mom said with a sigh.
I lifted my head from my phone and tried to focus on her words. But my mind was elsewhere, still puzzling over why Jesse and Alessia were together as recently as April when he’d told me their relationship had ended last August. He’d lied to me. Why would he do that? “Sorry. What?”
She laughed. “Let’s go to the brewery. We’ll talk over dinner.”
Chapter Eighteen
Quinn
Ripping off a piece of flatbread,I dipped it into the hummus—I practically lived on this stuff—and continued reading my paperback, doing my best to block out Carly and Aubrey’s conversation. They were discussing Declan, and I’d rather get lost in fiction than hear about the sexy chef’s ‘heat factor.’ I was tucked away at a table in the back of the taproom, eating a late lunch before my shift started.
“Next time, you’ll have to come up to the lake with us,” Carly said, just as if the lake house and the pontoon and Jet Skis were hers, and she had every right to extend the invitation.
Pretty sure Carly and Mason were sleeping together, but I didn’t want to know about that either.
I looked up from my book as Ridge set down a plate with his lunch and took a seat across from me. He’d cut the sleeves off his dark green Cavanaugh Bros. Brewing Company T-shirt, showcasing his biceps, and the collar was ripped. Ridge always looked as if he’d just come out of a street fight.
Without asking for permission, he grabbed a cucumber spear off my plate. We’d gotten familiar enough that he felt like he could do that.
But all I could think about was that cucumber Evie and I had been deep throating in the pool last week, and I started laughing.
The more I thought about it, the harder I laughed.
“What’s so funny, Bean?” He ate the cucumber in two bites, then took a huge bite of his sandwich, his brows cocked in question, prompting me for an answer.
Still laughing, I shook my head, unable to get the words out. Finally, when I pulled myself together, I took a sip of water and set my glass down on the zinc-topped table. “Nothing. It’s just something stupid. And don’t call me Bean.”
“Why not?” He grinned. “It’s cute.”
“Just like that mayo on the corner of your mouth,” I pointed out. Unfazed, he wiped it off with the back of his hand and took another bite of his BLT. If anyone had told me before this summer started that Ridge McCallister and I would become friends, I’d have called them crazy. But here we were.
“You’ve been hanging out with my brothers too much. That nickname isnotcute.”
“Why do they call you Bean?”
“Because a kidney looks like a bean.” I pulled the necklace out of my T-shirt collar and showed him the silver charm. “I’ve had two kidney transplants.”
Someone must have already told him, either Evie or my brothers because he didn’t look surprised. “You good now?”
“Yep. All good.”
