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I hate that he isn’t mine.
But I’m not about to unlock the vault around my heart.
How can I ask him to do the same?
“You’re what?” Dean’s voice echoes around the room. It’s free of his usual aren’t I an adorable troublemaker? tone. He’s genuinely concerned.
That’s weird. And worrisome. Dean only drops the pretenses when shit is bad.
And with that way Ryan’s shoulders are at his ears…
This is bad.
I’m quitting the shop and moving to Siberia; it’s the only place as cold as my soul bad.
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly.
There’s no way he’s leaving.
That’s absurd.
I try to focus on the computer screen. To actually finish double-checking these records. To pretend as if I’m not eavesdropping.
I fail.
My gaze stays on Ryan’s back.
He runs a hand through his wavy hair.
He shrugs, completely failing at aloof. “You’re invited too.”
“Fuck.” Dean’s sandy hair falls over his bright eyes as he shakes his head. “She’s such a bitch.”
“Don’t talk about her like that.”
“I’ll say it as much as I want.” Dean steps sideways, into the lobby. “Penny is a bitch.”
Ryan’s brow furrows as he turns and follows Dean. “I said I’m going, not ‘I’d like your opinion.’”
“You’re not going.”
“Yeah, I am.”
Ryan is going somewhere. Doing something Dean objects to.
But Dean doesn’t object to anything.
Unless—
Fuck.
Dean continues. “All right. Go. Get wasted. Stand up in the middle of the ceremony and scream ‘here’s a reason why these two can’t wed. Because she fucked him behind my back. And what the hell do you think that means for you, Francis? You think she’s gonna be loyal to you after that?’ Then drop the mic, get wasted, sleep with a bridesmaid, and come home the victor.”
“Fuck off.”
“You’re gonna make a fool of yourself either way. Might as well do it right.”
“She thinks I’m not over her,” Ryan says.
