Page 122 of Trust Me

I watched them leave before I changed out of my wet clothes. Holding onto Dean’s shirt and shoes, I rushed out of the gym. I saw him through the window, pacing barefoot outside while he talked on the phone.

I had no idea how to broach the subject, but I marched up to him as confidently as I could.

“Yeah,” he said. He met my eyes briefly before he focused on the call again. “Alright. Yeah, you too, Blake.”

With a sigh, he pocketed the phone and leaned against the brick. His jeans were still soaked, and he was getting interesting looks from people who passed by. It wasn’t the most important thing right now, but I stepped in front of him and held his shirt out.

Once he was decent again, I swallowed hard. “Let’s get home. You need to pack.”

“Pack?” His brows pulled down. There was a distance in his eyes that made me wonder if he’d actually heard me.

“You’re going to New York.”

“Oli, I told you I can’t.”

“I’ve already got a ticket for you.” I held up my phone. “I’ll talk to Remi about your shifts. Seriously, he won’t have an issue with it.”

“What . . . no.” Shaking his head, he pushed away from the wall and walked off.

My mouth went dry as I chased after him. When I grabbed for his arm, he shook me off.

“Why are you pushing me away?” I asked.

“I can’t just go to New York. God damnit, Oli.” When he reached his car, he stopped and tipped his head back. “Why would you buy a ticket without talking to me?”

“Brooks told me to.”

“Well, that’s your first mistake. Never listen to fucking Brooks.”

“Tilian said it too.”

His eyes rolled up to the sky. “Yeah, well, the guy smokes pure fucking gas every second of the day. Fuck, man.”

“Can you stop swearing so much?”

He met my eyes, and I pursed my lips at what was in them. Not warmth, that was for sure.

“Sorry,” I said quietly. “I shouldn’t ask you that when you’re going through this.”

When he cupped the side of my neck, I looked at him again. This time, the sun shone on his face, turning his eyes to sepia. His expression softened, and I leaned my forehead against his.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he murmured. His fingers stroked the back of my neck. “I appreciate the gesture. I really do. But I can’t let you pay for that.”

“Brooks paid for it.”

He reared back with a scowl. “Are you kidding?”

“Listen to me, Dean.” I cupped his face with both hands. “This isn’t the time for pride. He wanted to help, so he did. And before you say anything else, I got non-refundable tickets. Do you really want to feed into the cycle of corporate greed by letting them take all that money without making them provide the service?”

“That’s a really fucked up thing to say. Wait, tickets?”

I rolled my lips, then grimaced. “I thought . . . we could both . . . go.”

He just blinked at me.

Bad idea. Really bad idea. I shouldn’t have listened to those two.

“I’m so sorry,” I rushed out. “I didn’t want you to go alone, but I should’ve known you wouldn’t want me to come. Don’t even worry about it, okay? I can take over for you at the bar, then you don’t have to think about anything else.”