Whatever It Takes (Bad Reputation Duet #1)(55)

I glance at Loren, and he looks upset. Like maybe the whole goal was to rattle the unshakeable. Nine mazes are left, and I know Connor well enough as my boss—and I’m pretty sure you could put him in a thousand mazes and he’d still exit each one with assuredness and ease.

Rose narrows her eyes at Loren. Probably understanding his ulterior motive.

Loren cringes. “Stop staring at me. I know you like my face, but my face doesn’t like you.”

Rose’s yellow-green gaze pierces him. “You’re a child, Loren.”

They’re bickering is non-stop whenever I’m around them. At first, I thought it was a fluke. Nope. It happens… All. The. Time. For no other reason than they just seem to not get along.

Loren mimes wiping a tear with his fist to his cheek, surprisingly able to hold Lily with one hand. “Go cry about it in your lair.”

“Go dry hump a bed of nails.” At this, she flips her hair over her shoulder and marches ahead in five-inch heels. Her husband is the only person that follows her, able to keep pace with his wife. Their fingers thread together, holding hands.

Don’t think about Willow.

I’m not…

I’m trying not to.

I swallow a lump in my throat as we all follow the King and Queen—as the internet refers to them. With all the bodyguards trailing us, it’s starting to feel like they’re actually American royalty.

The more we walk, the more my mind circumnavigates back to Willow. Despite the skeleton-painted guys shrieking at the guests and chainsaws revving, I know she’d want to be here. She loves her family, and missing out on a group experience would bum her out.

There are pros and cons to being away, and this right now, is her con. Even if I’m having a decent…pretty good time.

So yeah, I feel kind of shitty about that.

I hate that we’re on two separate continents. We’re stretched thin for time as it is. And I’m not a mind reader. I don’t know what she’s thinking all the time, and especially now that she’s around college guys like Salvatore Amadio, she has to be beginning to understand that I’m not a great person. Bottom barrel. I’m shit, and once she realizes that completely, she’ll want it to be over. And how can I blame her?

I glance back at Ryke and Loren. Her brothers. They talk to her every week, and I wonder if she’s brought me up. I’m not going to ask though.

Should I?

I feel like that’s prying.

They’re her brothers, not mine. They’re not unbiased or anything. Not that I need someone on my side. I think everyone should be on Willow’s.

Swiftly, I look back again. This time not discreet enough.

“If you have something to fucking say, just say it,” Ryke says. His tone is softer than his words. “We don’t bite.”

“I do,” Loren adds with a bitter smile. “But count yourself lucky, I won’t bite you.”

I don’t believe that.

But I do believe that if he lashed out at me, I’d probably deserve it.

I slow down just to walk beside them. Taking a deep breath, I just let it all out. “You both talk to Willow a lot—I’m sure about me—and you can probably gauge her feelings, right? Honestly, I don’t need a ten-page-long synopsis or diagram or anything, but I just want to know the percentage you two think Willow will want to break up with me in the next few years.”

I must be a masochist to want to know. But I do.

Ryke’s brows furrow. “Don’t you two fucking talk to each other?”

“Yeah, but do you even know what it’s like being in a long-distance relationship? I can only say I love you so fucking much. It’s not the same as…” I take off the blinking baseball hat, hot all of a sudden. “It’s just harder.”

I want to hold her. I want to be with her. How do you do that if you’re physically separated from someone? And that physical part of a relationship—she could get it so much easier from a guy like Salvatore.

But even thinking of my girl with another guy—God, stop.

I focus on the question I asked: What percentage do they think Willow will want to break up with me?

“Zero percent,” Loren says, not even really hesitating.

I jerk back. “Zero percent?” I glance at Ryke. “Is he good at math?”

“Am I good at math,” Loren repeats like I’m a toddler. “I can count to ten. One, two, my sister is too good for you, four, five, you both will survive.”

I take that in, focusing on the important part. “You realize you didn’t reach ten, right?”

Loren swings his head to Ryke.

Ryke flips me off. Two middle fingers.

It’s his go-to move, and really, I earned it. I’m nearly smiling. “What percentage?” I ask Ryke.

“Zero,” he says, “but I don’t know what you’ll fucking do.” Wait…what?

I frown. “Why would you think that I’d want to break up with her? I’m worried about her breaking up with me.”

“That broken heart fucking thing,” Ryke says.

Shiiiiiit.

My mouth falls in realization. I filled out that questionnaire months ago, but maybe it’s been in the back of their minds. “You saw my Tumblr questionnaire?” Frustration surges. “How? You don’t even use Tumblr. You’re internet inept!”