“I think JoJo would be a perfect Heather,” Finn says, warmth shimmers in his eyes.
JoJo offers a shaky smile.
“Ladies, give Wes your emails, I’m sending you all an advance audiobook copy of my newest book. It doesn’t come outfor another two months, so you’ll have to promise to keep it between us.”
“Thanks.” The three say. Each woman’s response is different. JoJo’s is quiet. Trina’s is thankful, but seemingly not about the free book as much as for the kindness towards her two friends that my brother offers. Pen’s is guarded.
“JoJo—” Gillian coughs. “I… I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
Her forehead pinches. “That’s not an apology. Don’t try to be something you’re not.”
“What’s that?”
“Disingenuous.”
He blanches.
“You said what you said. Own it.” Turning, she and Wes leave.
There are few moments that leave my brother speechless, but JoJo’s response seems to have slapped him silent. If my stomach wasn’t so knotted up right now, I’d be reveling in the slacked-jawed expression taking over his smug face.
“I’ll be in—” Without finishing his own sentence, he walks away.
“Pen, Trina, I’m sorry. He’s not”—Finn frowns— “okay, he’s mostly like that but he’s kind of a pineapple. Deep down there’s sweetness.”
“Very deep down.” My comment is snide and pointed.
Frowning, Finn just shakes his head.
“It’s okay.” Pen rises, scooping up plates from the table.
“It’s not okay.” I look from Pen to the screen. “Finn, don’t make excuses for him. He’s a prick.” I stand up to help, but she waves me off.
“I’m the middle brother, it’s my job. I do it for him. I do it for you.”
“Maybe let your grown ass brothers make their own excuses and apologies,” Trina snarks.
“Says the woman that doesn’t let her grown ass friends fight their own battles.” A warm smile accompanies his chide.
“Noted.” She rolls her eyes but returns his smile with an equally warm one.
As Trina and Finn tease each other before saying goodbye, I watch Pen quietly clean up. Her gaze averted and mouth drawn into a tight line. Once I log off the call and shut the laptop, I stride to Pen. Taking the dishes from her hand, I place them on the counter.
“I’m sorry.”
Her expression pinches. “For what?”
“For Gillian being…well, Gillian. For telling my mam there’s nothing going on with us. She’d seen the article before I surprised you at Bread last week and—” I rub the back of my neck. “I didn’t know what to tell her, then.”
“I’m not upset by that. Of course, you haven’t told your mom about me. We’re still new.”
“I’m sorry about Gillian.” Gripping her biceps, my fingers caress her soft skin.
“It’s not your job to apologize for him nor your job to protect us from him.”
“I’m not going to let someone speak to you like that.” My brows pull together.
“I can defend myself.”
