Page 82 of Direct Action

“I told him,” I reiterated. “Now he looks at me like he feels sorry for me. God, Poppy, the last thing I want is for him to—”

Her hand came up to stop my spiral, then Poppy went about proving to me what I already knew—I had the bestest best friend a girl could hope for. She set my head straight.

“Has it occurred to you that he wasn’t looking at you like he felt sorry for you—that what he was giving you was the opportunity to unload some seriously heavy stuff on a hot guy who’s more than strong enough to help you carry the weight? That he was giving you a clear indication he cared and he wanted to know more? And I hate to break it to you, but I feel sorry for you. Sorry for you and for Andrea. Sorry that you and your mom are losing him in the cruelest way possible. Your dad’s an amazing guy. The best. And watching you and your mom go through this is agony. The only silver lining in this is that Hank doesn’t know what his girls are going through, because that would kill him.”

She was right, if my dad knew my mom and I were in pain because of what was happening to him, it would torture his mind.

“You need to let him be sorry and be concerned and hurt for you. If he’s not those things, then he’s a dick and you need to toss him aside and find a man who will stand strong at your side and, when need be, will carry you when you stumble.”

Ryan would stand strong. He’d carry me. He’d listen, and he’d feel my pain.

And that might’ve been the scariest part. I knew he’d be that man—no, I knew he was that man. That was part of why I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love with him even though I was telling myself I’d never have him. It was love from afar—just the idea of him, the promise of who he was.

“What if I screw this up?”

“What if you don’t?”

Gah.

“Poppy—”

“Stop. We’re talking about Ryan. Not only will you not screw it up—he won’t let you. I’ve watched him watching you at work for what feels like an eternity. The man looks pained every time he beats back the urge to throw you over his shoulder and whisk you off to his cave.”

“You read too many vampire books.”

“Girl, don’t throw shade when my books are all that I have keeping me company at night. And just to point out, it was you working at a bar him and the guys are investigating that made him snap. Which proves what I said true—he was holding himself back. And before you use the excuse he’s your boss, who the hell cares? I love the Plank. I love working there. I like it more because I work there with you. But it’s a bar. There are seventy-five million bars in San Diego. But you know what there’s not seventy-five-million of? Ryans. There’s only one of those.

“So this is what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna go into my closet, pick out the dress you want to borrow. Go visit your dad and be glad your mom won’t be there to see you pull up in Ryan’s truck and instigate the Mom Interrogation to End All Interrogations. Yes, it’ll be about Ryan but also why you’re driving his truck. So if you don’t want to be on the receiving end of her questioning, you need to hurry up. You might be able to get one past her over the phone, but in person, no way. Then you’re going to go home and relax since you’re on a week’s paid vacation. And in case you were unaware, an email was sent this morning that, effective immediately, there’s a new benefits policy. So, thanks for that. Then you’re going to call me. Then tonight we’re going to go to work, and I’m going to try to slip into Muriel’s office while you stand watch.”

She absolutely wasn’t going to do that.

“You’re not doing that.”

“I am. And you’re keeping watch.”

Was she insane?

“No freaking way. I don’t even want to think about what happens if you get caught.”

“I won’t get caught because you’re going to keep Muriel occupied.”

“You’re nuts. And just to remind you, there are cameras. Cameras that record. I could distract Muriel for the whole night and you’d still get caught. So no, you are not breaking into her office, and if you don’t back down from that, I’ll tell Beckett.”

That was a low blow and I knew it, but this was serious. Serious enough I had no qualms getting down in the mud and playing dirty, breaking the Bestie Code of Conduct if I had to.

Poppy had admitted she thought Beckett was hot—obviously I’d called that. What I’d been wrong about was, it wasn’t the lumberjack look that did it for her (though that was part of it). It was what she called his wounded soul that called her. Not in a sexual way but in a come to mama and let me patch you up way. I’d given her the warning Ryan had given me. She’d rolled her eyes. That was all I’d warn her off. Now my job was to support whatever she decided to do.

That was, support her with Beckett, not breaking and entering.

“We have to do something,” she hissed, not even bothering to call me out about breaking the code, because she knew I was right.

“We are,” I reminded her. “We’re reporting to the guys everything we see and hear. They’ll do the rest.”

I didn’t immediately go to her closet to get a dress and get my behind to my dad before my mom got off work so I could avoid her interrogation. Because that’s when Poppy broke.

I did what my best friend in the world needed me to do. I held her while she cried about her friend. I hugged her tight when she sobbed about how scared she was for Cindy. And finally, I held her hand while she called Pamela to check on her.

Then after she pulled herself together, I got the dress, sped to my dad’s nursing home so I could sit with him and a bunch of his friends that he didn’t actually know, and watched him play a game of checkers before I went home.