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“Look, Irelynn, you aren’t doing anything wrong. You told Max that your stalker was here. He offered to join us and take you to class.” She waves her fork at me. “And from the looks of the guy, there is no one who can protect you more than him. I mean, Max is certainly bigger and stronger than me.”
I can’t help the grin that slowly spreads. “I know I’m safe when I’m with him. But that doesn’t mean I like involving him in this.”
Vanessa rolls her eyes. “Max involved himself on all occasions.” She gives me a big smile. “Plus, you know you want to see him. Do you want me to pull out my phone and take a picture of your glowing face?” She lowers her hand to the table, wrapping her hand around it, ready to spring into action. I immediately shake my head and she laughs. “Truth hurts, love.” Her eyes sparkle as she leans forward, catching me off guard. “Tell me you haven’t stopped thinking about him since he left?” She cocks her brows; a gloating look on her face. She knows she has me. I’m terrible at lying.
I avert my gaze quickly, but not before she saw the answer to her question written all over my face. I’ve been unable to think about little else but him.
“See.” Her smile is triumphant. “And he is obviously thinking about you, since he texted, reminding you he’s available to follow you to class.” She leans back in her booth, her smile victorious.
I throw my napkin at her, shaking my head. “You’re incorrigible.”
“And you’re a terrible liar. Just admit that you can’t wait to see him again.”
I don’t admit to anything. I don’t have to. My smile says it all.
“Look at that beaming face,” Vanessa teases. She leans closer, the smile slowly replaced by seriousness as she regards me. “Irelynn, Max really likes you. You don’t do the things he did this weekend unless you are really into a girl.” She pauses to take a drink. “Plus, I saw the way he looked at you this morning. He had stars in his eyes, girl. He couldn’t see anythingexceptyou.” She laughs as I blush to the roots of my hair, her words warming me from the inside out. She shakes her head, her smile wide. “He opened the door for you, helped you out, and wrapped his hand around yours. That wasn’t to protect you from the smug bastard at the table diagonal from us. That was because he wants you.” She expels a sigh, her hand moving over her heart. “And that bear he bought for you is adorable.” Her eyes have a faraway glaze as she says, “They just don’t make men like that anymore. Whoever raised him certainly brought that man up right.”
My smile grows from her words. Like arrows, they fly across the table, landing straight in my heart. Everything she said is what I’ve been longing to believe, but too fearful to put much faith in it. My instincts about men have been wrong since I thought Ben was a great guy who was in love with me and would never hurt me.
Warmth courses through me when I think about the bear he bought me. Such a simple gift, yet so thoughtful. He has no idea how significant it is to me.
I used to have a bear that my grandma got me when I was a kid. I named him Mr. Wilson, and I used to sleep with him every night. When I grew older, Mr. Wilson had a special shelf on my bookcase where he sat, watching over me. Whenever I had a bad day or felt depressed, I’d grab him and squeeze him to my chest, hugging him. He always made me feel better, knowing I could tell him anything without him passing judgment or ever spilling my secrets.
During my time at Anderson Academy, I was bullied relentlessly when my brother, Mike, or William, wasn’t around. I constantly had bruises from them pinching me, tripping me so I’d fall and bust up my knees, and a number of other, hateful bullying tactics that made me feel like I didn’t belong.
I was a lowly scholarship student and they never failed to remind me that I was an outcast.
One day, I hit my breaking point. I rushed from Mike’s car, barely able to hide the tears, desperate not to let him see. I hadn’t told him or William what was happening, afraid they’d intervene and make things worse.
Running to my room, I froze, my eyes wide with astonishment as I stared at the empty shelf where Mr. Wilson always sat. Only, he wasn’t there.
I ripped apart my room, tears flowing freely down my cheeks. Mike heard the commotion from his room and ran into my bedroom to figure out what was happening. He immediately began searching my room, then we expanded outward, combing over the second floor, then to the first floor.
But we never found Mr. Wilson. To this day, I have no idea what happened to my bear.
My phone beeps, pulling me from my thoughts. I immediately read his text, a huge smile lighting up my face. “Max will be here soon. I need to flag our waitress down to order his breakfast.”
Vanessa’s green eyes sparkle. “I’ll get our waitress over here so you can order his food.” She turns and beckons to our waitress while I respond to Max.
When I set my phone back on the table, I look over to see William staring at me as he sips his drink. The smile dies off my face and I quickly avert my eyes.
“I still feel bad for involving Max in this,” I mutter to Vanessa before our waitress arrives. I give the waitress Max’s order, then when she leaves, I let out a long sigh.
“Girl, stop. That man really likes you and wants to keep you safe. Stop feeling guilty.” She waves her hand dismissively.
When she catches William still staring at me, she yells at him. “Asshole, you need to stop looking at her.”
William’s eyes are full of malice as he glares at Vanessa. I cringe in my seat. She shouldn’t be antagonizing him. I don’t like him looking at me, but I’m doing my best to ignore him since he’s stayed away from me.At least, so far.
Vanessa turns around, eating her breakfast like nothing happened. I shake my head and try to eat, though my stomach is in knots.
Although I don’t want to admit it to Vanessa, I will feel much safer when Max gets here.
My phone rings and my eyes trail over the screen, my body relaxing when I see his name. Snatching it from the table, I ignore the gloating smile on Vanessa’s face as I turn my head to the window, answering my phone.
“Hey,” my voice is low and breathy, and I cringe.God, he probably thinks he called some sex hotline from the tone of my voice.
There’s a slight pause, and I wonder what he’s thinking. “Hey, beautiful lady. How are you holding up?”
