Page 91 of Green Flag
And Bella’s drunken comments had me questioning Luca’s loyalty. He cared for Livie and… if she confessed to him last night, I didn’t know where his loyalty lied.
Luca left without offering me a glance and Nix was up in a shot, storming after him.
I sneaked out through the door, ready to confront him because something awful must have happened for him to need to spend all night in her damn room, when the conversation between Luca and Nix heated.
Nix stood straight, face reddening with anger and then he stormed past me and back into the pit box. A bike roared to life inside, bringing Luca’s attention back my way.
He went to speak as if he would call down the tunnel to me, but he shook his head. He’d been so adamant that nothing was going on between Nix and Livie. Was that because he knew there couldn’t be? Because there was something between him and Livie?
No, that made no sense.
But then why do that to me? Why fob me off and stay in another woman’s room all damn night?
I wasn’t thinking, just marching towards him, wanting to use the hip-swaying, thumb-popping, arm-swinging motion he’d taught me to break his nose.
“Did you sleep with her?”
He choked on air, eyes bulging out of his head. “What?”
I repeated my question.
“No!” he cried. “Fucking hell, Everly. No. She’s my friend.”
“Everyone is talking about it,” I said, embarrassed and suddenly fighting back tears. “About how you’ve cheated on me.”
“Fuck sake,” he grunted, turning away from me. “People need to keep their damn mouths shut.”
“I mean, I don’t blame them,” I snapped. “I would think the same thing.”
“Would or do?” he retorted, spinning round to face me. “Because it sounds like you think I did something I shouldn’t.”
I was silent, unsure how to react to that.
“Maybe I don’t care what people think,” he said, but I knew he really meantme. “Because she needed me. And I would go back there and do it again if I had to.”
“Okay,” I said, looking around for anyone who might care. “What do you want? A medal for being a good friend?”
He blinked, brows lowering as if he was baffled by me. I hadn’t stuttered.
“I want you to realise where my priorities lie,” he said. “A date with you for the press isn’t as important to me as my friend going through the worst—” He stopped. “It’s not anyone’s business but hers.”
My eyes pinched at his frustrated voice.
But it softened. “I thought you’d want to be with someone who was there for their friends,” he said, shaking his head again.
“I would—”
“You wouldn’t,” he said. “That’s clear.”
I was cringing because I knew he was right. I had overreacted.
Because I hated, despised, abhorred the idea of him with anyone else.
“We need a time frame,” I said quickly. “Of when this will end.”
His head shot back an inch and then he breathed in deeply. “Give me a date for my diary, then.”
I refused to look away, even as my swallow was loud, even as tears burned in the back of my eyes.
