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She pressed her hands to the center of his chest and shoved. He stumbled back a few steps, looking shocked as he glanced at Chris.
“Hey!” She reached up and snapped her fingers in his face. “Don’t look at him. He’s not your friend. Look at me.” Wes’ eyes snapped back down to her. “Sit.” She pointed at the black leather recliner and Wes immediately sat.
“Wait. This is my house?—”
“Where were you on the night of—” She paused. Wrong question. “Give me your phone.”
“My phone?”
“Abbie—”
“Phone!” she shouted, and Wes jumped up to grab his phone from the coffee table. She grinned to herself. She quite liked this—bossing someone around. Hm. Maybe she could convince Jett to be her servant for a while.
Not now, stupid brain. You have to find him first.
Wes hesitated before holding his phone out. “You’re not going to go through my pictures, are you?”
“What? No. Why would I? Wait. What do you have in there?” She excitedly grabbed his phone, but his fingers tightened.
“Nothing for you to see,” he huffed. “No pictures, Abbie-girl. Just call Jett.”
“How did you?—”
“Oh, was I supposed to pretend I didn’t know why you wanted my phone?” He lifted his brow, and she rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell him about that.”
“Tattle-tell.” She stuck her tongue out at him, and Chris cleared his throat. “Right. Back to business.”
She waited impatiently as Wes unlocked his phone and brought Jett’s name up. She couldn’t help but laugh at the name—Giant Grumpy Bastard. It was fitting.
Her thumb hovered over the call button, and she looked up, her eyes flicking between the two men. “I can’t,” she rasped. “What if he hangs up on me? Or worse?—”
“He wants to talk to you,” Wes said quietly. “He’s been blowing me up all weekend, making sure you’re okay.”
“Really?” Chris slid his hand onto her back, soothing her. Wes nodded, and jerked his head at the phone.
“Call him, Abbie-girl. We’ll give you privacy.”
Chris looked reluctant, but she gave him a reassuring smile as she nodded. He followed Wes into his bedroom, and then she was alone. She stared at the call button, unsure if she should do it or not.
What if he rejected her?
Or what if he missed her as much as she missed him?
That made her find the courage to presscall.
thirty-four
Jett twisted the beer bottle in his hand as he stared at the TV. He wasn’t really watching what was on it, not when his mind was on Abbie.
Was she okay? He hadn’t been able to bring himself to text or call her back. He’d reread her messages a million times, typed out a response just as many times, but never felt brave enough to hitsend.
He’d done this, ruined their relationship. Again.
And he loathed himself for it. He should’ve been honest with her from the beginning. Even if she told him she wasn't upset, he knew she would be when she found out the whole story.
He brought the bottle to his lips and took a deep drink. The other night, when she’d looked at him like she was scared, that had been his undoing. His final straw. He couldn’t handle seeing her look at him like that, couldn’t handle the rest of her family looking at him with triumph. But he couldn’t blame her father for any of it. It had been his fault, his decision to keep this from her, and he shouldn't have.
He’d had so many opportunities to tell her the truth, and he’d chosen not to. Not because he didn’t trust her, but because he loved her. Loved her too much to lose her. And maybe that was selfish and manipulative of him, but he hadn’t cared.
