by Kali Argent
“It’s a little late for sorry,” Rayce barked. “You could have gotten your friend killed. You know that, right?”
“How could you be so careless?” Jonas asked. “What if something had happened to Phoebe? How can you justify this?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“It’s not like we can pull the books. Even if we could, the damage has already been done.”
“Rayce,” Phoebe whispered. “Calm down, please.”
“Calm down? Why are you telling me to calm down?”
Phoebe had been angry when she’d first learned of what Elena had done, furious even. Now, watching her shake, seeing the tears streaking down her face, she couldn’t believe her best friend had intentionally put her in danger. She knew Elena, maybe better than anyone, with the exception of Jonas. She was abrasive and rash, and she tended to rub people the wrong way, but she’d never deliberately hurt anyone.
“Guys, chill out.” Stepping forward, she held her hands up for peace. “It was a mistake. It happened, and it’s done. There’s nothing we can do about it now.”
“You’re defending her?” Rayce looked like she’d just slapped him in the face. “How can you possibly defend her?”
“Because she’s my friend,” Phoebe snapped. Mostly, she just wanted everyone to stop yelling so she could think. “Breathe, Rayce.”
“This is fucking ridiculous. I can’t believe you’re being so naïve.”
“And I can’t believe you’re being such a dick.” Yes, it was bad. Yes, she was still angry, but Rayce had already tried and convicted Elena, and he wouldn’t hear a word otherwise. “You know what? I think everyone just needs to go to their separate corners and cool off before we continue this.”
“There’s nothing to continue!” Rayce practically bellowed. “You’re really okay with this? You’re going to forgive her?” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that, huh?”
She hadn’t forgiven anything, but she wasn’t going to stand in the middle of the hallway and argue with him, either. “I’m going to my room. When you calm down, you know where it is.”
“Fine,” he bit out as he walked away. “Don’t wait up.”
Phoebe’s pulse sped, and her stomach tightened. It had never crossed her mind that he wouldn’t follow her to their room. “Where are you going?”
“To get a fucking drink.”
“Are you coming back?”
He didn’t turn. Didn’t look at her. Didn’t answer.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Stubborn, ridiculous woman. Why would she listen to me? It’s not like I know anything.”
Sitting on a tattered, padded barstool at a busy pub down the block from the hotel, Rayce nursed his third longneck. The alcohol wasn’t helping, but it damn sure wasn’t hurting, either.
Smirking, Wren swirled a toothpick with three olives on it around her martini glass, then tapped it against the rim. “Sweet fuck, you’re whiney.”
“You weren’t there,” Rayce argued. “You don’t know what it was like.”
“Actually, I was there.” She caught the first olive between her teeth and slid it off its skewer.
“Not in the hallway.”
Biting into the second olive, she rolled her eyes. “Do you hear yourself right now? You sound like a toddler.”
“Do not,” he mumbled under his breath before taking a long swallow of his beer.
“For Christ’s sake, Hawk.” She popped the last olive into her mouth and jabbed the end of the toothpick in his direction. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. It’s obnoxious.”
Rayce glared. He was feeling a lot of things at the moment, but self-pity wasn’t one of them.
He felt frustrated that Phoebe wouldn’t listen to reason. He was angry at Elena for the shitstorm she’d caused. Jonas still annoyed the fuck out of him, even though he’d technically been on Rayce’s side during the argument. He worried about Phoebe, and he felt guilty for leaving her alone at the hotel—hence why he was just half a block away instead of at his condo.
“She has this big, beautiful heart, you know?” He held his hands apart and slightly cupped, as if holding a large beach ball. “She always wants to see the best in everyone.”
“That’s not such a bad thing,” Wren argued.
No, it wasn’t, and he didn’t want to change anything about Phoebe. He just wanted her to be a little more cautious. In his experience, people were inherently selfish, and when push came to shove, they’d do anything to save their own asses first.
Not Phoebe. She always gave more than she took. She owned up to her mistakes and did her best to make amends. She trusted too quickly and forgave too easily, and because of that, she’d been taken advantage of more than once. She cared so much about what other people thought or felt, how they responded to her, if they liked her. He didn’t know how she lived like that. Just thinking about it exhausted him.
“I just want her to care less about what everyone else wants or thinks. I mean, look at me. I have zero fucks to give, and life is a lot easier.”
“Right.” Wren sat up a little straighter and crossed one leg over the other. “You’re a shining beacon of happiness and normalcy.”
“You’re one to talk.” Wren had come to work for WSS at the same time as Rayce. Three years later, no one knew a damn thing about her.
“Meaning?”
“You’re kind of a crazy bitch.” He shrugged. “That’s what I like about you.”
“Oh, please.” She flicked her fingers at him and scoffed. “I’m a constant fucking delight.”
Despite his surly mood, Rayce chuckled as he tipped his beer toward her. This was why he’d called her instead of Ryder or Tieran or anyone else. She never lied to him, she never sugar-coated the truth, and she never tried to spare his feelings. With Wren, he knew where he stood, even if that sometimes felt like the edge of a cliff.
“Okay, let me ask you this.” She tipped her drink back, finishing it in one swallow. “If all this other shit wasn’t happening right now, would you still be so mad?”
“But, it is happening.”
“Just answer the damn question.” Without giving him a chance to speak, she continued. “If Elena had written that information in her book, and no one was messing with Phoebe right now, would you still be pissed?”
She was missing the point, possibly on purpose. “If I knew about it? Yeah, I’d be pissed, because there’d still be the potential for something bad to happen.”
“Fair enough. Do you think she did it on purpose?”
If she was asking if Elena had purposely put Phoebe in danger, he really didn’t have a good answer. “I honestly don’t know, but it was beyond reckless. It was stupid.”
“I agree, but deciding if Phoebe should forgive her best friend or not—that’s not really your call to make.”
“It’s my job to protect her, even if that means protecting her from herself.”
Phoebe would absolutely forgive Elena. Maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but eventually, she would, because that was just the kind of person she was.
“Okay, let me put this another way.” Pushing her empty martini glass aside, Wren crossed her arms on top of the bar and leaned forward. “Is this worth damaging your relationship with Phoebe? From where I’m sitting, I think your best bet is to suck it up and support your girlfriend, no matter what choice she makes.”
Rayce’s upper lip curled. “What if she makes the wrong choice?”
Wren laughed, the sound deep and throaty. “Do you love her?”
“Of course.”
With his beer bottle an inch from his lips, Rayce froze. He waited for the panic to set in, or at the very least, some kind of shock. All he felt, however, was a deep and consuming certainty. He didn’t know when it had happened—possibly the moment he’d met her—but he felt like he’d known for a while. It also explained why he simultaneously wanted to throttle her and kiss her until neither of them could breathe.
He was crazy, madly, head-o
ver-feet in love with Phoebe Keller.
Unaware of his sudden epiphany, Wren rapped her knuckles against the polished bar to get his attention. “If you love her, you support her, not matter what choice she makes, because again—and I can’t stress this enough—it’s not about you.”
“Wren, you’re kind of brilliant.”
She bobbed her head “Yep. Now, stop moping and go get your girl. You’re giving me a headache.”
Sliding off the barstool, Rayce pulled a couple of twenties from his wallet and slapped them down beside his half-empty beer bottle. “You staying?”
Wren glanced at the twenties with an arched eyebrow. “You buying?”
He pulled out another twenty and laid it on top of the other two.
Grinning, Wren slid the bills toward her and tapped them with a clean, unpolished nail. “I guess I’m staying.”
“Your pep talks are fucking expensive.”
She lifted one shoulder in a sort of half shrug as she signaled the bartender with the opposite hand. “Still cheaper than therapy.”
Tucking his wallet back into his pocket, he grabbed his cell phone and room key off the bar and headed for the exit. Outside, he choked and coughed as he passed through a cloud of cigarette smoke wafting from a table on the patio. A couple of drunks leaned against the bricks beside the neon sign in the window of the pub, and a guy in a Stetson and a pair of scuffed Ropers flagged down a passing cab at the curb.
No one paid any attention to him. No one cared about his problems. They certainly didn’t give a damn whether or not he’d been right or wrong, and he realized he didn’t care, either. All that mattered was that he loved Phoebe, and he had to make things right with her.
He jogged all the way to the hotel, not slowing or stopping until he’d crossed the busy lobby and reached the elevators. He jabbed the button with the upward-facing arrow twice, three times, a fourth. Impatiently, he paced the small alcove until a ding announced the arrival of one of the elevators.
“Hey, watch it!” a guy in a pair of swim trunks yelled when Rayce nearly plowed over him.
He didn’t care. Inside the elevator, he pressed the white, circular button for the fifth floor, then resumed his pacing until the doors slid open again. Down the hallway, past the room that housed the vending and ice machines, and around the corner, he marched with purpose and determination until he came to a stop outside of Phoebe’s door.
Keycard in hand, he hesitated. It had to be her choice. If she didn’t want to see him or talk to him, he couldn’t make that decision for her. So, he slipped the card into his back pocket and knocked on the door instead.
“Who is it?” Phoebe called a minute later.
It dawned on him that she wasn’t tall enough to see through the peephole, and the thought made him smile. “It’s me, sugar. Please open the door.”
He heard the slide of the chain and the scrape of the lock, and when the door swung open, he forgot everything he’d meant to say. Her hair hung in a damp curtain around her face, and she’d changed into a pair of black sweatpants at least a size too big for her. The pink hoodie wasn’t much better, hiding all of her beautiful curves, but it wasn’t her clothes that caused a lump to form in his throat.
With puffy, red-rimmed eyes, she stared up at him. The light from the hallway glistened off the tear stains on her cheeks, and her bottom lip looked swollen and raw, as if she’d been chewing on it since he’d left.
Rayce hated himself for the pain he’d caused her. He’d been angry, but he’d never wanted this. He’d never wanted her to hurt.
Stepping across the threshold, he pulled her into his arms, as if he could erase the memory of their fight if he just held her tight enough. Thankfully, she let him, burying her face against his chest and relaxing into him. She smelled amazing, like honeysuckle and sugarcane, a unique combination that instantly became his new favorite scent.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, tightening his arms as he bent to kiss the top of her head. “I didn’t mean it, sugar.” Walking her deeper into the room, he kicked the door closed behind him. “I didn’t mean any of it.”
“You left.”
“I did, and I’m sorry.” Not his proudest moment, but he was there now, and he’d do anything to fix his mistake. “It won’t happen again.”
Pulling out of his arms, she took a step back, creating distance between them, and looked up at him like a wounded puppy. “Why did you leave?”
“Because I was angry, and anger makes me stupid.”
“I didn’t mean to make you angry.”
Of course she’d blame herself. “You didn’t do anything wrong. This one is on me.”
Phoebe had thought long and hard about it in the shower, and she’d come to a very different conclusion. She bore just as much responsibility for their disagreement as he did, maybe more.
“I wasn’t forgiving Elena or excusing what she did.” She hadn’t been taking sides or choosing one person she cared about over another. “Things were getting kind of intense, and I didn’t want to fight, especially not in front of a bunch of my readers.”
“I get that now.” He came closer, reaching for her. “At the time, I was…”
“Scared,” she supplied holding her hand up to stop his advance. “I know guys don’t like to admit that anything scares them, but you were afraid for me. I was afraid for me, too. I still am.”
“Nothing is going to happen to you,” he vowed. “I won’t let it.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can, because I’m selfish, because keeping you safe is the only way to protect myself. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”
“Rayce, you can’t wrap me in a bubble and hide me away from the world. As much as you might want to, you can’t fight all of my battles.” She pressed her palm to the center of his chest and shook her head when he started to argue. “I’m not a child. I’m not helpless or naïve.”
“I didn’t mean that,” he muttered.
Phoebe smiled. “Believe it or not, I took care of myself for a long time before you came along. If there’s something I can’t handle, I’m more than happy to hand the reins over to you, but this thing between me and Elena? This is my problem, and I’ll deal with it. This isn’t your fight.”
“Wren said something like that.”
“She’s a smart woman.”
“Phoebe, I want to tell you that I understand, but the truth is I don’t. I can’t see how this is even remotely okay. She’s not a friend, sugar. A friend doesn’t do something like this.”
“Not. Your. Fight.”
“Goddamn it!” Spinning around, he shoved his fingers through his hair and growled. “I can’t sit here and do nothing.”
“What exactly are you going to do? Call the cops? Smack her around? Threaten her like you did Tucker?” She knew he wanted to protect her, but his brand of intervention would only make the situation worse.
“I don’t know!” he exploded, turning back to face her, eyes wide, face red. “I have to do something, though. I have to fix this.”
“Why?” To her, his reaction felt disproportionate to the offense, and he looked like he was about to lose his damn mind. “Why is this so important to you?”
“Because I’m fucking in love with you, Phoebe. Because every time I think about something happening to you, I can’t breathe.” Resting his hands on his hips, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply for several seconds. When he looked at her again, there was a suspicious sheen along his lower lashes. “Don’t you get it? There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”
Phoebe couldn’t speak for several seconds, and she did a whole lot of non-breathing herself.
“You…you love me?”
“Yes.” Hands still on his hips, he bobbed his head. “Full-on, can’t eat, can’t sleep, crazy in love with you.” He took a step closer, not giving her a chance to retreat this time. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way.” With one arm around her wais
t, he tilted her chin up with two fingers and kissed her tenderly. “I can wait.”
She hadn’t wanted to admit it at first, not even to herself, but that hadn’t stopped her from losing her heart. Even when she’d finally accepted it, she hadn’t said anything, too insecure to put herself out there and risk rejection.
Too damaged to trust her own heart.
She wasn’t afraid anymore.
“Well, it shouldn’t be a very long wait, because I already love you. I love you so much that sometimes I’m afraid my heart can’t hold it all.” Arching her neck, she brushed their lips together again. “How could you possibly think otherwise?”
He kissed her again, sliding his hands beneath the hem of her sweater to caress the sensitive skin over her belly. “I love you, Phoebe Keller, and I’m going to spend every day proving it to you.”
Rayce didn’t deserve her, but he was too selfish to walk away. He needed her like he needed air, and despite his shortcomings, no one would ever love her the way he did.
“You don’t have to prove anything, not to me.” She gripped the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss that shook him to his core. “I want you, Rayce.”
It wasn’t like her to be so bold, but fuck, he found it sexy as hell. The heat of her gaze enveloped him as he jerked her into his arms, lifting her up and encouraging her legs around his waist.
“The things you do to me, sugar.”
Groaning, he tangled his fingers in her silky hair and ravished her lips, pushing his tongue between her teeth to sweep around the inside of her mouth. Blindly, he stumbled toward the bed, needing to see her, feel her, touch and taste every inch of her. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to ease her onto the mattress and remove her clothes without ripping them from her body.
Once he had both of them undressed, he took just a moment to admire the gorgeous creature sprawled across the mattress, drinking in every feminine curve, every shallow dip, and every flexing muscle. When she parted her knees, opening for him in invitation, his cock hardened painfully, and his heart jackhammered up into his throat.