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Jace stumbles but quickly rights himself as he moves around a piece of furniture, ducking when Teagan takes a feeble swing.Raising his hands in front of himself, he murmurs, “I care about her, man. She’s not—”
“Just another one of your girls?” Teagan fumes. His hands clench as they face off, and then he snaps and charges him like he’s a linebacker, and not the tight-end position he usually plays. “You lying sack of shit!”
His head and shoulder barrel into Jace’s stomach. A hiss of air escapes Jace’s lungs when he makes contact, and they crash into the end table. The lamp shatters as it falls to the ground while they wrestle for purchase beside it.
Teagan gains the upper hand, rolling on top of Jace and pulling his arm back, his fist ready to strike when the sound of my mother’s voice makes him freeze. “What the hell is going on in here?”
I turn to her. Tears stream down my face, unchecked as they roll underneath my chin.
My mother’s gaze quickly flickers to me, then back, her mouth a tight line as she takes in the scene before her.
Teagan lowers his arm, settling for bunching Jace’s shirt in his hand as he leans down to speak to him. “How could you do this to me?” Teagan seethes. “You were supposed to be my best friend.”
“I am.”
Teagan shakes his head, releases his shirt, and stands. “You were.”
Jace’s nostrils flare and his gaze flickers to me, then to my mother beside me before his head falls back against the ground with a thud. “It just happened. I couldn’tnotfall for her.”
Teagan laughs, the bitter sound sending chills up my spine. “You know when I asked you to keep an eye on her for me, this isn’t what I had in mind.”
“I know.”
“I trusted you,” Teagan says with so much venom in his voice, it curls my toes. “I trusted you like a brother.”
Silence stretches. Only the sound of their breathing and the pounding of my heart fills the room. Until my mother steps forward and places a hand on Teagan’s arm. “Jace, honey,” she says, “I think maybe you should go home.”
CHAPTER 39
BRYNN
The porch swing creaksas I sink down onto the wooden slats. Outside, insects buzz and the air smells of freshly mowed lawn. Inside, the house is quiet with the vague stench of loneliness. Mom ran to the grocery store with the girls to buy food for the party next weekend, and Dad’s working.
I’ve barely spoken to anyone since yesterday morning when Mom walked in on the fight between Jace and Teagan. I’m sure she had no problem puzzling together everything that’s happened, especially with Teagan skulking about. He was probably thrilled to fill in the gaps. I wouldn’t know because the minute Jace left, I spent the rest of the day locked in my bedroom where I promptly blamed myself for everything.
It’s only been twenty-four hours since I broke Jace’s heart, crushing mine along with it, and I miss him like I’d miss a leg or an arm.
I can still feel his desperation as he tried to convince me we could make things work. I can picture with perfect clarity thedefeat and resignation in his eyes when he spoke to Teagan. But the worst . . . probably the worst moment was when my mother asked him to leave. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen utter devastation come to life before until that moment.
Everything he was so afraid of came to fruition, and I can’t help but feel like it’s all my fault.
The noisy squawk of the screen door pierces the quiet, and I turn, glancing back to see Teagan. Rising to my feet, I turn for the door. I came out here for fresh air, not a lecture. Whatever he has to say, I’m not interested in.
“Can you please just sit and talk to me?” His hazel eyes find mine, pleading as he shoves his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts. “Please.”
I stare at him for a long moment, debating what I want to do. I can’t possibly feel any shittier than I already do, and I can’t avoid him forever. So I sit back down and wait for him to take the floor, refusing to be the first one to speak. If he has something to say, I’m sure as hell not going to make it easier on him.
He inhales behind me before walking toward the swing and sinks down beside me.
My throat tightens, the urge to cry pricking at the back of my eyes. No matter how much I want to stay mad at him—and Iammad—Teagan is my best friend, the one person in my life I can always count on.
“Can I just ask why?” he finally says.
“Why what?” I ask, though I know what he means.
“Why him?” He clears his throat. “How did it happen?”
I glance over at him, my mouth a thin line. “Do you really want to know?”
