Mo eyed me curiously. “You good, bruh?”
Clearing my throat, I nodded. “I’m fine.”
“Sure?”
Over the years, I’d known Mo to be very protective of Albany. Almost more than I was. He’d gone against his father, his stepmother, and even Grandma to defend her. I had no doubt he would do the same now. Knowing her the way he did, I assumed he’d already guessed that the tension was the current flowing between me and Albany. He didn’t like it, and I couldn’t blame him.
“Very,” I replied.
One thing Mo had to know about me? I didn’t back down for anybody. If he had a problem with me, he needed to tell me. While I respected him, I wasn’t scared of him either.
If he wanted me to stay away from his sister?Shehad to say it.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I added, shifting my gaze between Albany and Mo.
Erica elbowed her friend. “Oh. Whit, remember the woman I was telling you about?” Erica asked. “The PI?”
Whitney nodded. “Yeah, I believe so.”
“This is her. Albany.” Erica grinned. “She’s working for Batchelor Corp now.”
Recognition dawned on Whitney. “Oh.” She reached out to shake Albany’s hand. “Finally, I get to put a face to a name.”
Only Albany didn’t reciprocate the gesture. Instead, she asked, “Are you from Detroit?”
Whitney closed her hand into a fist, then shoved it into her pocket. “No.” She flashed a forced, yet polite smile. “I’m from Wellspring.”
Albany glanced at me, before she turned her attention back to Whitney. “What brings you to town?”
Albany was suspicious by nature. She was always the last person to warm up to outsiders. It was one of the reasons I called her Bug. She presented with a hard shell, but it was her protection mechanism, her way of shielding herself from attacks. On the inside, though, she was delicate, gentle, harmless. Like a ladybug. When we were kids, it would often come across as mean. In eighth grade, some of the girls had campaigned to vote her Most Likely to Kick Someone’s Ass. She hated the moniker because she wasn’t that. While Albany tended to retreat inward when she was around people she didn’t know, I’d never known her to be cold.
Whitney giggled nervously. “Um, I …”
“She lives here now,” I answered. “Moved a couple of weeks ago.”
“Hmph.” Albany looked at her phone, tapped on the screen before she lifted her eyes again. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”
Erica gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought I’d said her name when you two came over.”
“You did,” I murmured.
Albany glared at me. “I didn’t hear her,” she grumbled through clenched teeth.
“Anyway”—Erica shrugged—“Whitney was one of my first friends when we moved to Wellspring.”
“That’s nice.” She eyed me, lifting a brow. “Is she your friend, too?”
Whitney chuckled. “I actually met Wes first. At school. I tutored him in math.”
“Oh.” Albany laughed. There was no humor in it, though. “I used to tutor him, too.” She clapped with faux glee. “What’s funny is … He never needed me to help him. He could solve a math problem with his eyes closed.”
“Albany,” Mo said.
She held a hand up. “Hold on, because I’m not done. Later—I told you this is a funny story—he told me he only did that so that he could spend more alone time with me. I fell for it.” She forced a smile. “Guess that trick worked in Wellspring, too.”
Shit. She was pissed. And I finally figured what that off feeling was. She was jealous. Which made me incredibly happy and emboldened to further my agenda of getting her back. Whit didn’t deserve her wrath, though.
“It wasn’t math,” I corrected. “I asked her to help me with English.”
