Page 58 of Wrong For Me


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“Better hurry, Alec, or your wife might—”

“Stop,” he interrupts, his teeth clenched in anger, but that green gaze holds distress. “Don’t bring her into—”

Hot, angry tears hit in a blink, and I shove him. He wasn’t expecting it, so he stumbles back a single step, but it’s enough for me to push off the wall. I get into his face, unable to stop the damn tears from falling.

“I didn’t bring her into anything. You brought her into our home, into our lives. You tied her to you, so you shouldn’t be surprised that when she felt you slipping, she followed the line and tightened the noose you’d willingly hung around your neck.” I blink hard, commanding my tears to dry. “I hope she chokes you with it.”

I storm away, and this time, he lets me.

But, of course, I don’t get far before the other Daniels brother pops into my face.

With a sigh, I continue past Rowan and head for the storage room to check that the delivery was loaded-in correctly.

“What, Rowan?”

He grips my arm to stop me, his eyes moving across my face before his features harden. “Why are you crying?”

I yank from his hold and keep moving forward. “I’m not crying.”

“Well, you were. Talk to me.”

Fed up, I spin. “I don’t want to talk, okay?” My brows jump. “I. Don’t. Want. To. I didn’t last week or last night or this morning when you asked, and I don’t now!”

He shifts back, hurt easily detected in his brown eyes, but I don’t wanna give in right now. I always do, and I’m tired of giving more than I want just to make everyone else feel better.

“Look, I get it; you worry, but please just … don’t.”

“I’m not going to stop worrying about you, and to be honest, I’ve been more concerned lately than I was when your dad first died.”

I unlock the storage room and step inside, picking up the clipboard sitting on the boxes—the one that should have been placed back on the hook if the job was done correctly. “Yeah, well, I don’t know why. I’m back at work, busy instead of sulking around all day.”

“Yeah, and you’re disconnected.”

When I spin to glare at him, he stands tall, not backing out of his words.

“You lost your excitement for this. Yes, you’re here, and you’re doing a good job, but the fire is gone from your eyes. You’re coasting, Oakley, and it makes me nervous. I don’t want you to blow up one day because you’ve been burying so much.”

“I’m not doing this right now.”

“Doing what?” he shouts. “Talking to your best friend about what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing is going on with me!” I shout back. “My dad died, the guy I was fucking is married, and I missed a few weeks of work. Life happens. I’m just trying to go on, and you won’t let me!”

I know why he approached me; this all turned when he saw a stupid tear.

He tries to speak, but I cut him off, “Why don’t you man up, Rowan, and ask me what you came to ask?”

His expression goes slack, and he steps back. “That’s not fair.”

When I say nothing, he shakes his head.

“Yes, I was coming to ask something, but I saw you were upset, and then the only thing that mattered was finding out what was wrong with you.” He looks off. “I just wanna be here for you, Oakley.”

His eyes find mine, and again, my emotions rule over my commands.

Tears fill my eyes.

“Why won’t you let me?”

“Our heads aren’t right, Rowan,” I whisper. “I’m … God, I don’t even know. Fucked up, I guess. I don’t want either of us to fall into a mess we can’t climb out of after all this.”

“I don’t even know what that means, Oakley.”

I lick my lips and look off. “What did you wanna ask?” I change the subject, and Rowan tenses for a moment.

Finally, he licks his lips and shrugs. “What was that with Gio?”

“He asked a question, and I answered it.”

“What’d he ask?”

“Tell me why you wanna know.”

He lifts his arms. His mouth opens to speak, but nothing comes out.

“Did he question you about our relationship?” I ask him.

His brows jump. “What did he say to you?”

“He thinks we’re together.”

Rowan swallows, nodding, and my eyes narrow.

“You want him to think we are, don’t you?”

He shrugs. “It’s not his business. He can think what he wants.”

“Rowan!” I walk toward him. “It could hurt the school. I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re getting special treatment and is upset about it.”

When he scoffs, I glare.

“What?”

“That’s not what it is.”

“How the hell do you know?”

“I just do.”

I eye him, and when it gets to be too much, he looks away.

“You know, Rowan, for my best friend, who expects me to be honest and up-front about the shit going on in my head, you kind of suck at it.”

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