Page 65 of No First Kisses

But I move toward the front door all the same.

“Why are you going out that way?” Chloe looks up from her phone.

“’Cause I want to scare the piss out of Ian if I can,” I answer honestly. “I still owe him for digging into my romantic life when he should have been focused on his own.”

Chloe laughs, rubbing her stomach lovingly. “Yeah,” she says sweetly. “But look where it got us.”

“Pregnant, hangry, and ready to murder the men in our lives?” Emma muses from the doorway, shoving another cookie in her mouth.

“If it helps, I’ll distract them by doing something in the kitchen. I feel like a little bit of revenge is necessary if they’re gonna take forever on the food.”

I really don’t want to mess with Emma when it comes to getting in the way of her and food. If Logan thinks I’m crazy with the pregnancy hormones, he doesn’t have a clue.

“Okay,” I tell Emma. “Give me like thirty seconds to get down the stairs and around to the side of the house. Then you distract them, and I’ll get Ian.”

“What are you gonna do?” Chloe asks. “I hope nothing that’ll keep him from… you know. Later tonight.”

“Parker’s got the kid’s sprinkler hose thing on the side of the house. I figure I’ll sneak up on him and soak him.” I look outside. “It’s warm enough out there. He’ll dry off before you go home.”

Parker titters. “Someone should record that. We could put it online.”

Emma nods. “I got it. They’ll just think I’m being weird.” She pulls her phone out from between her boobs, and for a second I can’t figure out how I ended up with such a crazy group of friends.

“Okay, I’m going.” I slowly make my way out the front door and down the steps, trying to count the seconds in my head as I go.

Thirty seconds was definitely an underestimate on how long it takes, though, because it is at least a minute until I have the hose in my hand.

And another minute until I get to the corner of the house.

But Emma probably shouldn’t have bothered trying to distract them. They don’t even have the grill turned on yet. In fact, all five of them are standing around the barbecue talking so intently that none of them notice I’m there.

“I’ve never told anyone,” Logan is saying. “Because I knew if Poppy found out the truth, I’d lose her forever. I told Ian in therapy, and even Poppy, without going into detail, that it was my fault. But it really was. I beat the fuck out of Ortega, recorded his confession after I beat him, and then I turned it in to the police. He came looking for us that night. He came looking for her that night. To hurt me.”

I drop the hose, but it lands on the handle and sprays a jet of ice-cold water straight up. Into my face.

Gasping for air and swatting away the sprinkler, I find myself staring into Logan’s eyes.

“You heard.”

I don’t answer.

I can’t answer.

He lied to me.

A-freaking-gain.

I am so angry that I want to hit him upside the head. Plus, I’m hungry, and now I have to wait even longer for something to eat.

Well, at least that’s one of my problems I can solve on my own.

“I need to go,” I say quietly while they all stare at me with varying levels of concern.

I walk away before he can ask me to stay. To let him explain. I know if he gets even one word out, I won’t be going anywhere. So I move as fast as my stomach will let me, and he doesn’t follow.

I climb into the driver’s seat of his truck and pull the keys out of the cupholder.

It really is all his fault that I steal his truck.

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