Page 19 of Three Pucking Words
Her interest peaks, but she doesn’t ask.
So, I throw her a bone. “I’ve helped Henderson’s little sister out before with a tense family meal. It didn’t end well. To be honest, I’m not sure she even talks to her dad.”
Something flashes over her face, making her lips curl downward before they recover into a neutral thin line. “I hope it wasn’t your job to go and smooth things over between them,” she says, although the amusement seems forced. “Because that would mean you failed miserably.”
“Nah. I was just there to make sure nobody got murdered. Didn’t like the way he talked to her, so I’m surprisedIdidn’t hurt him.”
I’m still pissed off that their father thought it was okay to let Olive get talked down to by his girlfriend. From what Sebastian said, it was a common occurrence. I hated that for his sister; hated more that it dimmed those mint green eyes that were usually full of life.
What I hateworseis that I played a hand in letting her get torn apart online by people who claimed to be my fans when I posted a picture of Olive, her brother, and I at an arcade. It hurt her, and I should have been man enough to stop what was being said. To delete the comments; turn them off. Something.Anything. Instead, I let my piece of shit manager convince me to leave them on.No press is bad press, is what he told me.
True for me, but not so much for her. I became another man in her life who hurt her, and it took a long time for me to stop feeling like a jackass over it.
After that incident, I took complete control of my social media so I could never be told what to do online. I’m careful, of course, not to post something I shouldn’t. I fulfill my contract by uploading a certain number of posts per year, especially during the season, but I don’t have anyone whispering in my ear about what would lookbestfor me and my career. Frankly, I don’t give a shit.
Not if it means letting someone else get hurt.
Honor’s eyes scan my face, making me wonder what she sees. “Did you love her?”
The question stirs something in my stomach as I shift in my chair. But the answer is easy. “No. It never got thar far. I admired Olive, though. She didn’t deserve to be treated the way she was by her father. I was glad to be there for her that day, even if I wasn’t when it mattered.”
Her head tilts in surprise. “Olive Henderson? Isn’t she the girl in the photo you posted last year that went viral?”
Internally cringing, I nod. I used to wonder if that mistake cost me a chance with her, but I knew it was more than that. “You know about that, huh?”
Honor shrugs. “I’ve looked you up.”
I probably shouldn’t like that she took the time to look into me, but I do. “You looked me up?”
For a second, she winces, as if she didn’t mean to admit that aloud. Then she brushes it off and sits a little straighter. “Don’t let it get to your head, Hoffman. I only looked you up to figure out what you looked like for when we met at the aquarium. How embarrassing would it had been if I randomly tagged along with a stranger thinking it was you?”
Fair point, although I don’t know if I believe her. “Fine, I’ll let it go. For now.” I wink at her playfully.
She leans her crossed arms on the edge of the table and I do my best not to look at how the position squishes her boobs together to make her cleavage more inviting. “So you admired Olive, but you didn’t love her. How come?”
The probing question doesn’t bother me as much as she probably thinks. “She wouldn’t let me.”
The answer makes Honor blink in silence.
It’s too long of a story to explain, and frankly, I don’t want to. “Olive is a great girl, but we wouldn’t have worked even if we tried. She doesn’t want kids, and I have one. Plus, she loves someone else. Simple as that.”
There’s sympathy in her gaze as it studies mine. “I’m sorry to hear that, Bodhi. It’s never fun when you’re not the one chosen by someone you care about.”
She says it so softly, so genuinely, that it’s clear she’s speaking from personal experience. “I take it you know how that feels?”
Honor swallows, her throat bobbing as she looks away. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”
I want to ask for details, but not yet. I’d rather she offers them to me willingly. “I’m sorry then.”
Clicking her tongue, she lets out a long breath before Puck pops up beside her. I’d almost forgotten he was there. “Don’t worry about it,” she tells me, looking at her dog and stroking his head.
A faraway look distances her caramel eyes before she shakes off whatever thought she’s having as if to summon herself back to reality.
“So,” I say slowly. “Friendship.”
“What about it?” she asks with a pinched expression.
I chuckle. “I could always use another friend” is all I say, trying to be as casual about it as possible.
