Page 120 of Hearts Storm

“Terrified,” I admit with a small laugh. “What if they want me to choose? Or, if not, what if this whole thing blows up in our faces?”

Lizzy is quiet for a moment, and I can feel her studying me in the darkness.

“Can I tell you something about my brother?” she asks finally.

“Sure.”

“He’s never been the same since what Mel did to him in college.” She pauses, letting that sink in. “And he’s never, ever talked about anyone the way he talks about you. Not even her.”

My heart flutters. “Really?”

“Really. And Brex?” She snorts. “That guy has been a mess for weeks. I’m not sure what flipped his switch, but the way he looks at you? It’s like you hung the freaking moon.”

I press my lips together in an attempt to contain the smile threatening to break free.

“I haven’t told anyone this, but I ran into Brex in Portland a couple of months ago.”

“No shit?”

“I’m going to tell you something, but you have to promise not to freak out.”

Lizzy raises an eyebrow.

“I mean it, Iz.”

She shakes her head with a small smile. “Promise. Now, shoot.”

The next words tumble out of my mouth so fast, I’d be surprised if Lizzy can keep up.

“I was walking home from a bar when two men shoved me into an alley and assaulted me. Brex happened to be walking by and saved me. He didn’t know it was me until after he’d kicked the shit out of them. He bought me breakfast, walked me home and did dirty things to me on my porch. He gave me his number, but I never called. I had no idea he worked for LFSR until my first day.”

Blowing out a soft breath, Lizzy turns to face me. “First of all. I can’t believe you didn’t tell anyone you were assaulted,” she whisper-hisses. “But I get it. You needed to work through shit on your own. Thank you for trusting me. Second: Now it makes sense why Brex has been acting all weird and shit.”

“Yeah, well. I’m thankful to have you as a friend.”

“Me too,” Lizzy smiles. “I’m gonna go sleep in my own bed. Ro should be home soon.”

She turns away, then stops, glancing back at me. “Look. All I was trying to say is that those two idiots are crazy about you. And whatever they want to talk about? I’m sure it’s nothing bad. Not with the way those two are hung up over you.”

Leaving me with those words of wisdom, she walks away.

fifty-one

It’s six fifty-eight.

I know this because I’ve checked the clock on the microwave approximately four thousand times in the last hour.

My house has never been this clean. I scrubbed the kitchen counters twice, fluffed every pillow on the couch, lit a vanilla candle on the coffee table, blew it out because it felt like I was trying too hard, then lit it again because the room still smelled like Clorox.

I’ve also changed my clothes at least three freaking times.

I finally managed to settle on a pair of soft grey leggings and an oversized cream sweater that slips off one shoulder. Casual, but comfortable. Definitely not the tiny black slip dress I put on and then immediately yanked over my head because who wears a slip dress to a casual dinner at home?

I mean, the last thing I want is to make it too obvious what I hope will happen tonight.

Just as I blow out a cleansing breath, the doorbell rings, making my heart ka-thump against my ribs.

“Just a sec!” I call out, wiping my sweaty palms on the front of my leggings.