Page 144 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
I turned toward Jude and smiled. “Good. You?”
“All good.” He took a pull of his beer and followed the direction of my gaze. “You know what my mom always told us? When a McCallister boy falls in love, it’s for life. And my mom’s always right,” he added.
“I never pegged you for a mama’s boy,” I teased.
He grinned. “She’s a good woman, and she gives good advice.”
“What kind of advice would she give me right now?”
“That depends on what you want. Do you love him?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I do. But our situation… it’s pretty hopeless.”
“You’ve heard the story of Lila and me, right?”
“Yeah.” Lila told me at that barbecue dinner on the Fourth of July. Their story was beautiful, but it had taken them a long time to get where they were today.
“Not even you and Ridge can top our story. And look at us now.” His eyes found Lila, who was talking to Shiloh, and as if she could feel him watching her, she looked over at him and smiled, then blew him a kiss. “I’d be a miserable bastard without her.”
“So, you don’t think we’re hopeless?”
Jude took another pull of his beer, then rubbed his jaw and narrowed his eyes like he was thinking about how to answer and what words of advice he could give me.
“Sometimes you meet the right person at the wrong time. It could be a case of bad timing. But even if it takes years until you’re both in the right place, don’t give up. Never give up. He’s worth it. And so are you.” Jude put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “You deserve good things, Evie.”
He barely knew me, but it was nice to say. “Thank you.”
I wanted to believe it was possible. That someday Ridge and I could have our second chance.
But even if he wanted that, which he didn’t, I knew this wasn’t our time.
CHAPTERFIFTY-FOUR
Ridge
“Football’s dumb,”Gracie said as I spun her around the dance floor to the tune of “Pour Some Sugar On Me.” My dance partner was a three-foot-tall spitfire. “All you gotta do is catch a ball and run with it. What’s so hard about that?”
Was I really going to argue the merits of football with my five-and-a-half-year-old niece? Apparently, I was. “There’s more skill required than just catching a ball, Buttercup.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t call me Buttercup.”
“That’s what you get for wearing a yellow dress.”
“I hate dresses. I don’t know why I gotta wear one.”
“Well, you look pretty.” Gracie looked like a mini-Lila with the same green eyes and heart-shaped face. She had a spray of freckles on her button nose and a crown of daisies on her head. So damn cute.
I spun her out and reeled her back in, making her giggle. She’d lost her shoes somewhere, so she was barefoot. Her toenails were painted every color of the rainbow. Yesterday, before our family trip to Disneyland, I let her paint my nails.
I’d stopped to give a few autographs and pose for selfies. By noon my nails were all over Instagram. #pride #loveislove
Troy messaged and asked if I’d changed teams.Say the word, and I’ll dump my current boyfriend.
Don’t tease me, him-bo. Your whole feed is filled with smiling photos of you and your main man. I’m happy for you, bro.
Happy for you too. I tell everyone who’ll listen that I used to know Ridge “Flash” McCallister way back when. You’re a fucking legend.
In my mind, hell yeah, I was. But, in reality, I was the asshole who threw a chair against the wall and fucked everything up with my ex-girlfriend.
