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“What man?” I ask, just as the young waiter appears at our table.
“She’ll have a venti latte and I’ll have a long black,” Devon whisks off effortlessly, his eyes remaining on mine. Once the waiter has gone, he repeats. “Who’s the guy with you?”
I fidget beneath the table, my fingers wrapping around each other like tiny little vises. “He was one of the doctors at the ward I was being held in.”
The corners of Devon’s eyes crinkle around the edges before he exhales, leaning back in his chair. “You know it was for your own good.”
I freeze at those words. I hate being told something is for my own good. No one knows what is good for anyone unless they’re that person and know what good feels like to them. What the fuck does he mean it was for my own good? “What?” I lean forward until my elbows were pressing into the table. “You mean to tell me that me being locked in a psych ward while my father played Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde on me was for my own good? Devon, you’re a fucking idiot.” I go to push off the table and stand to my feet when his hand covers mine on the table, pausing what was going to be my dramatic exit.
His skin is pale against mine and the leather bangles that clench around his slim wrist match the black ring that’s over his thumb. My eyes fly to his in fury. “Get your fucking hands off me, Devon.”
He doesn’t.
His hand remains on mine. “No. And Isa, I’m not letting you go this time because you’re going to hear me out.”
I don’t want to hear him out. I feel myself slowly slipping into self-consciousness with whether or not I should be trusting my friend. My only friend. My mind is saying don’t be stupid, but my heart is saying we know this particular brand of stupid.
“Jesus Christ, Isa,” he exhales, and I faintly hear the legs of his chair scrape against the tiled floor. “Come on. We need to go somewhere more private.” He takes my hand in his and leads me out of the coffee shop, pushing through the entry doorway. I don’t know why I allow him to do this so quickly after pissing me off. Maybe it’s as simple as me wanting to, or maybe it’s because deep down I still trusted Devon. It’s not hard to trust someone when the seed was already planted there from the beginning. All you have to do is water it.
Max is waiting outside of the car when he catches us walking out. Instantly he’s strolling directly to us, probably sensing danger. “What’s going on?”
Devon glares at him up and down, the corner of his mouth tipped up in a snarl. “You think Bryant is scared of you? He’s merely heating up his meal before he eats you for a snack.”
“Devon.” I slap him with the back of my hand.
Devon turns around to face me. “He can’t come.”
“Why?” I ask, my hands waving in the air.
Devon shrugs. “Simply because I don’t trust him.”
I run my tongue over my bottom lip, thinking over Devon’s words. Devon may always be the life of the party and the obvious extrovert in the group, but make no mistake, he’s every bit instinctual when it comes to reading people, so his simple declaration of not trusting Max has wriggled inside of my head.
Exhaling a pent-up breath, I turn to Max. “I’ll call you if I need anything.” Devon beeps unlocked a Porsche that’s parked behind Max’s hired car.
Max shakes his head, the obvious unease possessing his features in ways that he probably doesn’t even realize he’s exposing. “I don’t like this, Isa. Your father could be working with them, trying to get you back in. I can’t help you if this is his doing.”
“Yo! I’m not a fucking Republican!” Devon yells loudly from the driver’s side of the Porsche.
I roll my eyes. Devon doesn’t even politic. I squeeze Max’s hand. “Please. You’ve done so much for me. I will call you.”
“You trust him?” Max asks, the wariness rolling off of him in waves.
Without a pause, I nod. “Yes. I do. Unfortunately.”
Max releases a breath that I didn’t realize he was holding. “Okay. I will go back to the hotel and wait for your call.” Waving him off, I slide into the passenger seat of Devon’s new ride.
“What the fuck are you playing at, Isa? You really wanna strip dance with another man right in front of the beast?”
I lick my lips. “Why don’t you like him?”
Devon floors us out of the parking lot. “Because he’s wearing fucking loafers with jeans.”
“God, Devon!” I yell, turning to face him. “What the fuck happened while I was away?”
Devon shakes his head. “After you left, things turned to shit.”
