Hostile(43)

I give a quick nod. “Yeah.”

“It’ll be okay, man. Rhys will understand.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” I say honestly, and he doesn’t argue anymore. There’s no point, and I know I need to tell Rhys sooner rather than later. It’s eating away at me.

I’m still thinking about it when I get to my place, but I’m distracted when I see Bree’s car parked in the drive. I get out of my car and look around, seeing her sitting at the top of my stairs. I climb them, my heart thundering in my chest with worry.

“Bree?” She offers a small smile and stands up as I reach the top.

“Hey. I was wondering if you were ever coming home.”

Guilt creeps up, threatening to choke me. “How long have you been waiting?”

She shrugs. “Not long. Can I come inside?”

I nod dumbly, putting my key in the lock and letting her inside my place. I flick on the lights and close the door, wondering what the hell is going on.

“What’s up, Bree? You okay?”

She takes a seat on my couch and pats the spot next to her. I sit down, hoping everything is okay with her. I haven’t been a good friend lately, and I know that. “I’m fine. Relax.” She reads my mind easily, and I try like hell to follow her direction.

“Okay.”

“I just haven’t seen you much at school, and then you were gone during spring break.”

I don’t point out that I was only gone three days. But I know I haven’t been around for a lot longer than that. I’ve been distant and weird. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m just surprised.”

She nods her head, chewing on her bottom lip nervously, which is so damn weird. Bree isn’t nervous around me. “What’s going on with you and Grayson?”

Damn. Okay, she came right out with it. I clear my throat and sit up a little straighter. “Umm . . .”

“No.” She’s deadly serious. “Don’t think of a lie or find the right way to tell me. Just tell me the truth. Tell me what’s going on because you’ve been so strange lately. And I know I messed up when I almost kissed you, but I miss you.”

I shake my head adamantly. “No. That . . .” Shit. I don’t know what to say.

Her hand lands on my knee—grounding me. “I did. I messed a lot of things up, but I don’t regret it because it was the truth. It was real. I was in love with you—” Her voice shakes slightly. “I still am.”

“Bree—” I cut in with nothing to say, but she shakes her head.

“No. That’s not your problem. It’s mine, and it’s something I’m working on. You don’t have to feel guilty because you don’t feel that way about me.”

I take her small hands in mine and turn in her direction. “I want to. I mean . . . I . . .” am a stuttering fool is exactly what I am.

She only smiles and lets me hold her hands in mine. “You don’t love me like that. And it’s okay, but we still have to be best friends, Rhett. I can’t take it if we aren’t, and you don’t have to hide anything from me. Ever.”

I nod my head dumbly, understanding her meaning. I’m glad I talked to Grayson about this before we left the cabin. I would never betray him by telling his secret if he hadn’t said it was okay. But I hate lying to Bree. “We, umm . . .” My throat feels dry. I’m not ashamed, and I know Bree is the furthest thing from a bigot, but still . . . This is hard. “We’re like, um . . .” She quirks a manicured eyebrow at me, waiting for me to just get to it. “We’ve done stuff.”

“Stuff?” She can barely contain her laugh.

“Fuck you.”

She laughs again. “What kind of stuff, Rhett?”

My lip twitches with a brief smile. “How do you know? I mean . . . Seriously, Bree. You have cameras stashed around here?”

She laughs and crinkles her cute nose. “No. I’m not a gross stalker, thank you very much. I just, I don’t know . . .” Her shoulder kicks up, and her smile is beautiful. “I saw the way you looked at him and the possessive-ass way he looks at you. If you’re paying attention, it’s pretty damn obvious.”

I must look sick because she notices. I drop her hands, feeling it in my gut. “It’s obvious?”

“No,” she quickly reassures me. “Not obvious to everyone at school. Just to people who really know you.”

“Fletch?” I ask, and she shakes her head.

“Okay. Obvious to me. Fletch barely knows himself, let alone pays close enough attention to figure this out.” She shoves my shoulder. “But even if it were obvious to everyone, would you really care?”

“Yeah.” She cocks her head to the side, ready to ask me why, no doubt. “Grayson . . . His family isn’t like you guys. He’ll lose everything.”

“What the fuck?” She looks enraged, and I shake my head, wrapping an arm around her.

“Yeah. I know. They’re shitheads. And he has a lot riding on doing what they want him to do. Which probably doesn’t include fucking guys.”

“Wait.” She turns her head to look at me, her jaw dropping. “Fucking? He’s fucked you?”

“Bree.” I laugh uncomfortably. “No. And we don’t talk about that.”