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“Wait, wait…” My brain is still frozen with shock and doesn’t quite follow. “Oh crap, you know about the blog?”
“Yeah. My sister told me about it, and today a colleague at work saw it and—”
I put a hand on his chest and push, needing to see his face. “What photo? And what do you mean, your names? Are you drunk?”
He blinks at me, those pretty blue eyes confused. “A photo of us—you, me, Jet outside our building holding hands, and our names below.”
“No, this can’t be. This…” I frown. That selfie? “I took that photo of us, last week. It’s my desktop background. J, I’d never do that. I was going to tell you about my blog and the story, but I only got as far as telling Jet today, and I’m going to take the story down. As for the photo and your names, that wasn’t me.”
“Not you? Then who?”
“Someone must have hacked into my computer. Oh God.” Who would do this to me? Brylee?
Nah. Brylee wouldn’t. What would she have to gain? Besides, she’s not that much into computers.
Whereas Connie is.
Jesus. Could it be possible? I thought we were good friends. What reason would she have to do such a thing?
“It wasn’t you,” he whispers, and maybe I should be angry at him for thinking it was, but I’m numb and frightened and tired, and how can I blame him? I should have told him about the blog long ago.
“Hey, guys!” Brylee is rushing toward us, and we break apart, although he grabs my hand, holding it tightly in his, and it makes my chest warm. “I couldn’t find you.”
“What did you find out?”
“He’s coming out of surgery as we speak. They say he’ll be okay.”
God. My knees go weak, and Joel wraps an arm around my waist, holding me up.
“What else did they say?” he asks tersely.
“They said we can go and wait in another room, but they won’t tell me more because I’m not family.”
“Well, we are,” Joel says. “Let’s go find out.”
***
“Why did you freak out?” I ask him half an hour later, leaning back in my creaking plastic chair in a smaller waiting room, killing time, waiting for Jet to wake up from the anesthetic.
“Hm?” He glances up, his eyes haunted.
“You said earlier this is your fault because you freaked out on Jet. You said things got heated. You got into an argument?”
“What? No, that’s not what I meant. I meant…” He waves a hand, and I watch fascinated as his cheeks turn pink. Making sure nobody else is near, he lowers his voice. “I mean we kissed, and I went down on him.”
“Holy shit.” A matching blush is spreading on my face. “Not fair. Next time I want to see.”
He snorts, but grins at me, flashing his dimple. “I love you, Candy.”
Oh God. “I love you, too, Joel Kingsley. I love both of you.”
He strokes my cheek, his blue eyes warm.
“Look,” I tell him, “I’ll take that photo down the moment I’m home and find out who did this. I know that you like your privacy, you have every right to it, especially after that stupid scandal last year and—”
“Shush.” He reaches again for my hand, and I tangle my fingers with his. “It’s okay.”
“Okay?” I study his flushed face. “You were not okay earlier today. Will you have problems at work because of it?”
