Page 61 of Wild Hearts

A shudder wracks over me as I think of Drew with his charismatic grin and hazel eyes that traced their way hungrily over my body. “I just want to forget it ever happened,” I finally say, chewing on my bottom lip. “Do you think Ivy will say anything to Brady?”

Harley gives my waist a reassuring squeeze. “She’s upset, but she won’t say anything unless you want her to. Just give her time.”

I nod.

Harley clears his throat. “Do you want me to take you home?”

I shake my head. I don’t want to be alone in my apartment right now. “Can we stay here for a little while longer?”

“Whatever you need. I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Harley.”

“Of course.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Brady

IVY’S PISSED AT MEagain. I have absolutely no idea what’s going on with her, but she’s been giving me the silent treatment for two days. It makes absolutely no sense since I’m pretty sure I gave her what she wanted by agreeing to go to Theo’s stupid Baptism. For fuck’s sake, I can’t keep up with this girl. I try to do the right thing and I’m still in the doghouse.

Wren’s been avoiding me as well – more than usual. I called into the ice cream shop on my way to the beach yesterday to grab a Coke and she hightailed it into the kitchen. Are we kids again? I mean, I know she wants some space, and that’s fine. I’m happy to back off. But does that mean I’m not allowed to go into the ice-creamery now in case she’s working? Fuck that. I live here, too.

The only person not acting weird around me is Jordan. And thank God, because I’ve been relying on him getting me to and from my rehab appointments.

“How’d it go?” he asks as I settle myself into his Kombi on Friday afternoon.

“Alright.” My standard reply. “Pete reckons I can lose the crutches by next week and the brace will be enough to stop me from doing any more damage.”

“That’s good.” Jordan raises his eyes at my flat tone.

“What?”

“What crawled up your ass?”

I shoot him a withering look and he puts his hands up in surrender, that cocky grin pissing me off even more. “Geez, someone’s in desperate need of a lay,” he quips, and all my pent-up frustration finally reaches breaking point.

---