“I know,” she said. “But you still are. And until you figure outwhyyou’re so scared to be chosen—truly, unapologetically chosen—this is going to keep happening.”
A long beat passed, and I sighed. She didn’t ask me to do it, but I leaned my head against her shoulder and closed my eyes for a moment. Just leaned on the strength she offered. When she pressed a kiss to the top of my head, I felt small, but also… cared for.
“Okay, take another breath. Then we go back out there and pretend we’re normal. Tomorrow? You start figuring out which life you actually want—then we make sure you get it.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“I like having a plan.” Another light kiss to the top of my head and a squeeze of my shoulders. I sat up straighter and met her gaze. “Also,” she added, dry as the desert, “if you’re going to be the center of a love pentagon, at least own it. Don’t half-ass your scandal.”
A laugh burst out of me even as fresh tears slipped down my cheeks. “God, you’re terrifying.”
“I’m honest. People confuse the two.”
She wasn’t wrong.
We stayed there for a moment longer. The truth wasn’t going anywhere and Rachel let me wipe away my tears and put myself back together without any rush. I had a feeling, she’d sit there all night if I needed it.
I had no idea what I’d done to deserve a friend like…
What I deserved.
“I like that you’re honest,” I admitted, because Rachel was right. I didn’t think I deserved to be chosen and she’d chosen me anyway. “I like that you’re my friend, too.”
“Me too,” she said. “But don’t go telling everyone. I’m a bitch and I like my reputation.”
Another smile escaped me. “Pretty sure that’s safe.”
“Probably,” she agreed. “Also—” She bumped my shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
JAKE
Iwatched her walk away.
Correction—theywalked away. Rachel and Frankie. Like they were going off to scheme world domination or a takedown playlist or maybe just to get away from all the testosterone that had choked the patio into a silent standoff.
Probably the third one.
Didn’t matter.
What mattered was thathestayed.
Frenchy. Mathieu. Whatever the hell name he went by. Sitting there like he belonged. Like he hadn’t touched her. Kissed her. Beeninside her.
I clenched my fist so hard my beer bottle cracked under the pressure.
No one seemed to notice. Not really. Coop was avoiding my eyes, probably hoping I’d cool down. Bubba was half-turned, pretending to look at the pool, but his attention kept flicking back to me like he could feel the fuse burning down. Archie… Archie didn’t say a word. Just watched.
That stung worse than I wanted to admit.
Because if heknew—if Archie knew the truth—he’d be on my side. No question. He’d throw that smug bastard out of his houseso fast Frenchy would still be spinning by the time he landed on the sidewalk.
But Archie didn’t know. Nobody knew.
