Page 81 of The Other Room

“You’re okay. Just quit drinking for the night and go home.”

Nikki snuggled in even deeper while my stomach churned. “Matt, take me home.”

“Your friends can do that. Now you need to–”

My voice stalled out when I saw her standing in the parking lot.

Jo.

I glanced down at Nikki, still pressed against my chest with her lips brushing my neck.

“Jo, this isn’t what it looks like!” I called just before she spun and bolted back toward Stabbur.

I tried to shake Nikki off, but she wobbled again, and I had to hold her up.

“Jo!” I shouted just before she disappeared around the corner.

FUCK!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

JO

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Matt shouted my name, but I didn’t turn back.

I couldn’t. Tears brimmed my eyes and to hell if I would let him... and Nikki, see me cry.

I knew it. I fucking knew it.

Nikki hadn’t been home more than two minutes and already she’d wormed her way back into his arms.

Wasn’t in love with her my ass. Of course, he was. Everyone was in love with Nikki, though only God knew why.

Sure she had perfect tits, legs up to her neck, and that shiny red hair that never seemed out of place. But how could he not see past that? How could he be so blind to her selfish, ugly insides?

I pushed through the crowd at Stabbur, racing back toward my Jeep parked out front in the road. It seemed like the bodies had quadrupled since I’d arrived only a few minutes ago, looking for Matt. When I’d gotten here, I’d expected to find him holding a stool... not holding Nikki.

Ugh! I ripped out an internal scream as the image of her wrapped in his arms invaded my mind again. Her lips on his neck. His arms around her waist.

Nausea churned in my stomach, and I was grateful I hadn’t eaten dinner yet because after that sight, it would have come back up.

So stupid. How in the hell had I allowed myself to forget what he’d done just last year? He’d thrown away his friendship with Jake for one taste of her lips, and now he was doing the same damn thing to me.

But it wasn’t friendship he was throwing away this time. It was so much more.

Or at least that’s what I had thought it was.

Apparently, I was wrong. Dead wrong.

Then I remembered the look in his eye when he’d said he loved me. Remembered the passion buried in his kiss. My steps slowed as I tried to get control of my emotions. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’d walked in on a moment that had only looked bad, and this was my natural inclination to overreact resurfacing. The broken heart my father had left behind trying to protect me by forcing me to bolt before things got serious. But this time, they already were serious.

I inhaled a deep breath and blew it out.

He wouldn’t do this to me. I’m mistaken. He loves me.

I tried to pound that into my head so I could spin back around and go face him. I’d promised him I wouldn’t run, and that’s exactly what I was doing. I needed to gather my courage around me like my favorite leather jacket and demand he explain what I’d just seen. Talk to my best friend, the man I loved, and hope that he had some other explanation.