The Forever Girl (Wildstone, #6)(54)

Walker nodded, message received. For years now, he and Maze had been circling each other. Their pull, no matter how far apart they were, was strong. Their one night together had irrevocably changed things between them. They knew the power of it now, and as much as he hated to admit it, it’d scared him into retreating. His retreat had been physical.

Maze’s retreat had been emotional. She’d shut him out.

He missed her. He turned to go, but Jace stopped him. “I might not know how to rip out a guy’s gonads and feed them to him, but I’ll figure something out if you hurt her again.”

“Again?” Walker asked, not worrying about the threat. He was glad Maze had someone who cared so much. “When the hell did I ever break her heart?”

Jace shook his head, like Walker was a huge idiot. “Man, if you don’t know, I can’t help you.”

MAZE RECEIVED A text at the exact moment someone knocked on her bedroom door. Fresh out of the shower and wearing only a towel, she dripped water everywhere as she glanced at her screen first.

Her heart stopped.

JACE: He knows.

Another knock. It was Walker—she could tell by the implied impatience.

Shit. “Give me a minute!” she yelled. Panic blocked her air passage as she frantically thumbed out a return text for Jace.

MAZE: He knows???????? What do you mean he knows??????

The bedroom door started to open. Leaping to it, she pressed her spine to the wood and, sliding down to sit on the floor, held it closed with her back as she stared at her phone, willing Jace to text her back.

“If you’re trying to get ahold of your boyfriend,” Walker said through the door, “he’s busy getting his tonsils sucked out by Heather. Open up, Maze.”

“Hold on!”

“Tried that.”

And then it was out of her hands. The door cracked open. Yes, she was sitting against it, but Walker easily pushed her across the smooth wood floor enough to squeeze through the opening he’d made for himself. Then he shut the door and crouched low in front of her.

With an undignified squeak, she dropped her phone and very nearly her towel. He caught the phone for her but didn’t even attempt to help her save the towel.

Grabbing it herself, she readjusted and then glared at him, her wet hair dripping down her shoulders, giving her a chill. Actually, the chill might be coming from her life. Caitlin was getting married. Heather had a baby. Walker had a career. They’d all moved on from the tragedy of their youth and losing Michael and had gotten themselves real adult lives.

And what did she have? A silly lie she’d told everyone about having a boyfriend.

Walker was looking at her, gaze serious now. Intense. “Truth,” he said. “Are you scared of us?”

“Of course not,” she said, a big, fancy lie that made her shiver.

He rose and grabbed a second towel from the bed, coming back to wrap it around her shoulders, pulling it tight to her, the backs of his fingers brushing her collarbone, giving her a body shiver for an entirely different reason.

They stood there sharing air, watching each other.

“Okay, tough girl,” he said. “Let’s have confession time.”

“Or not.”

“I’ll start,” he said as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’m scared.”

She scoffed. “Right. Nothing scares you.”

“You’re wrong,” he said, eyes serious. “I’m scared of a lot.”

“Like?”

“Like something happening to Cat or Heather. Or you,” he said in a way that made her swallow hard. “I don’t think I could survive that.” He paused. “Now you.”

“Okay.” She drew a deep breath. “So . . . I’m not dating Jace.”

“And?”

“And? I just gave you a huge confession. Isn’t that enough?”

“No. Scoot over.” When she didn’t move fast enough, he maneuvered her himself, his big hands on her hips sliding her six inches across the floor to make room for himself. He sat next to her, his long legs out in front of him, both of them leaning back against the door.

“Who told you?” she asked.

“You.” And when she sighed, he said, “And I’ve suspected from the beginning.”

She groaned. “It’s a good thing I never tried to be an actress. What gave me away?”

“I got suspicious whenever he touched you. Your reaction was always to give a short little laugh, the kind of laugh you always use when you’re uncomfortable.”

“I do not.” But a small laugh escaped and she slapped her hand over her mouth. “Dammit,” she said through her fingers.

He grinned. “The grand finale was when I caught him and Heather in a lip-lock just now. So he’s either a first-class dick or you two were never together.”

She groaned and slid her hand up to cover her eyes.

Gently, he pulled it from her face.

“He’s not a dick,” she said. “He’s a good friend. And actually my boss.”

“Now see, that makes a lot more sense. Because there was no way he was into you that way, or you’d have seemed a whole lot more satisfied. Instead, you look . . .”

She raised a brow.

“. . . uptight.” He leaned in, and his mouth brushed her ear. “And you and I both know that orgasms don’t leave you uptight, they relax you into a boneless state of contentment.”