“Okay, well, in that case, I’m going over to Cull’s house. He and I need to talk.”
Hadley sighs. “I wish I had put money on how fast you caved.”
“Did you really think I wasn’t going to talk to him the rest of the day?”
“You two idiots can’t go more than three seconds without talking to each other, so no.”
I roll my eyes and lean over to give my sister a hug. She returns it fiercely, holding on a beat longer than normal.
“I know Cullen is struggling, but don’t give him a free pass. You deserve to heal without feeling any guilt. So does he.”
“Thanks, Hads.”
She kisses my cheek, then she shoves me. “Alright, I have a date with some housewives. Be gone.” She shoos me away with a flick of her hand, hunkering down under a blanket.
Leaving Hadley to her show, I head to the foyer and grab my keys. The moment I step onto the porch, I stop.
Cull is sitting on the steps, his head buried in his hands.
“You’re still here?” I can’t help my smile as I sit next to him, my arm curling around his waist.
“I’m sorry,” he gasps, pulling me into a bone-crushing hug. “I’m so fucking sorry, Hud.”
“I know you are, babe. It’s been hard on everyone. That’s on me.”
“No, nothing is your fault.”
“Still lying to me, huh?” I nudge him in his ribs, trying to force a small smile.
It doesn’t work.
He takes a deep breath and holds my hand, then deflects my accusation. “Let’s go grab dinner, maybe pizza?”
I know Cull doesn’t want to keep talking about his pent-up issues, so I drop it—again. Lately, getting him to open up feelslike knocking on a locked door, silence the only thing greeting me.
No wonder he stayed so frustrated with me when I shut him out.
“Yeah, pizza sounds good.” I stand, pulling Cull up and leading him over to my Bronco.
“Isn’t your mom getting tired of lending you her car?” I ask as I climb into the driver’s seat, Mrs. Eliza’s sleek black car in my peripherals.
Cull shuts his door and fastens his seatbelt. “She would be if she weren’t getting a new car out of this deal,” he grumbles.
I can’t help but laugh. “Your loss is her gain then?”
“Something like that. She’s going this weekend to pick a new one, then I’ll take over driving hers.”
His frown is cute, but I know how much he misses his truck. It was a gift for his sixteenth birthday and his dream car. Now he’s saddled with—the horror—a Lexus.
“I think you’ll live. Can’t be a worse fate than your broken pinky.”
That finally gets a laugh out of him. “Yeah, yeah. Life is hard,” he jokes.
The conversation fades, leaving only the hum of the tires against the pavement. My gaze follows the road stretching out ahead of us, but my mind keeps drifting elsewhere.
“I miss the river,” I admit. The urge to turn my car around and drive there is strong.
“Fuck that place.” It’s all Cull says, but his tone is vehement.
