FIFTEEN
Jace
The second those damning words flew out of my mouth, regret wormed its way inside me and settled deep in my gut. That’s got to be some sort of record. I’m an asshole—there’s no argument there—but the guys look like they want to murder me. Well, except for Harrison. He looks like he not only wants to murder me but hack me into little pieces and spread me all through the French Quarter.
I guess I should’ve kept quiet. Okay, fine. I definitely should’ve kept quiet. None of us agreed to tell Harrison about his sister living with us today—or any day in the near future.
But damn.
Charlotte’s been digging under my skin for the past four days, and the words just flew out of my mouth.
I’ve been trying to avoid her, but it’s impossible. She’s always there. She’s eating at the table, watching TV, laughing with the guys, and last night she was working on that damn sewing machine for hours.
Hours.
And now that I know she’s using that thing to make lingerie, there’s no way I’m going to be around while she’s sewing. Imagining her prancing around in lace is the last thing I need if I’m going to maintain a modicum of self-control.
Self-control that’s dwindling with every passing day. I need it so I don’t do something stupid, like telling my best friend I know more about his little sister at the moment than he does. What the fuck was that?
When we tell him, and we will eventually, it needs to be somewhere quiet where we can break the news to him gently. Not blurt it out in front of an entire restaurant full of people.
Fuck my life.
I rake my hands through my hair and wrap them around the back of my neck, squeezing like it’s going to give me some damn sense. This isn’t me. I’m not antagonistic, and I sure as hell don’t hurt people’s feelings for fun.
“How the fuck do you know Charlotte lost her job?” Harrison slams his hand down on the table, causing the silverware to vibrate. I swallow, working past the lump growing in my throat. “And that she was dumped. And that she was booted from her apartment. I haven’t said a damn word to you about any of this.”
One fucking sentence, and I’ve managed to jump out of the frying pan and directly into the fire. What’s worse, I have no idea how to put out the flames.
“You better start talking, Jace.” He points at me, his expression tight. “I don’t like being kept in the dark.”
My mouth opens, but I can’t make words come out. Not this time. Not with Harrison staring straight through my soul. And I get it. There’s no way I should know about any of those things, not without him telling us first.
I should lay everything out on the table, tell him about Charlotte moving in with us and the deal we all made, but I can’t talk. I can’t move. With each passing second, my opportunity to come clean grows smaller, and Harrison looks more suspicious.
He’s still glaring at me—hell, I don’t think he’s even blinked. He sure as shit hasn’t so much as looked at the other guys.
I’m so screwed.
I open my mouth again, and fuck if I know what I’m going to say. I’m a coward, a terrible friend, and a goddamned rat. I’ve hurt both the girl I can’t seem to push away, and my best friend, the guy who was there for me when no one else was.
“Don’t mean to interrupt this staring contest, but Jace, don’t you think you should apologize to Charlie?” Mateo slaps my arm, pulling Harrison’s attention away from me, and I can breathe again. “Maybe make sure she’s okay?”
Normally I’d scoff and tell him or Roman to do it, especially since they seem to have developed a friendly relationship with Charlotte in such a short period of time, but I need some space. I need to get away from Harrison before my mouth gets the best of me—again.
We probably need to have a group discussion—and fast—before this situation gets out of control and eats us alive.
I suck up my pride and nod. I’m up and away from the table in seconds, and just when I think I’m in the clear, Harrison’s hand clamps down on my shoulder.
“This conversation isn’t done.” His jaw is tight, his tone all business. This isn’t my best friend. This is Charlotte’s protective big brother, the enforcer for the New Orleans Phantoms.
I don’t look him in the eyes. I can’t. I just give him another halfhearted nod and take off in the direction of the ladies’ room.
Do you think there’s any chance she just had to use the bathroom?
Who am I kidding?
She was close to tears at the table, and now…