Page 85 of Nash

I don’t answer. My stomach twists. She’s too close to the truth.

“Vale, I’m serious.” She whimpers, “You’re scaring me.”

“I’m coming.” My voice cracks. I’m dizzy, opening the door to the blinding sunlight and her sweet face.

“Oh my god,” she gasps. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I shield my crying eyes from the sun.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Okay, fine.” I let her step inside. “It’s some hottie from the sex club. He railed me properly and gave me fuckhair, and now I’m having a pity party because it’s over.”

I’m not lying to her; I’m twisting the truth to protect her.

“Oh my god,” she gasps again, horror hitting her face. “Your neck. Your legs. What did he do to you?”

“I asked him to do it.” My bruises don’t hurt as much as the truth.

“Vale!” she explodes. “Did this guy hurt you? Did he ra?—”

“No.” I stand, hanging my head. “I wanted him. I wanted everything he did to me, and now he’s gone.”

I turn, seeking my bed, and she follows.

“Why?” Alena sits while I lie down. She starts rubbing my back. “Why did he have to go if you wanted him so much? Why did he leave you wrecked like this?”

“Because… ” I close my eyes, searching for a lie that feels like the truth. “Because he’s committed to someone else, and I understand, even though it hurts so bad.”

“So he was cheating?” she asks. “And he didn’t tell you or something?”

Damn, this is hard. My pain is too deep and raw, and my lies are only digging my grave deeper.

“It’s just over,” I mutter, tears streaming down my face. “And… And I can’t breathe.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Alena cries with me. She lies down, spooning and holding me. “I’m so sorry.” She gives me minutes to sob. “Men suck,” she mutters.

“Yours doesn’t.”

She’s too silent.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing. I’m here for you. My shit is stupid.”

I turn around, worried. “Are you okay? Please tell me. Give me something else to think about.”

“I’m fine.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m just pissed because Loch isn’t happy about my dad and godfather being his groomsmen, but who else can it be since he won’t ask his brothers to do it.”

“Does he not have friends to ask? Like you have me and Blair?”

Focusing on her makes this feel better—just a little.

“He said his brothers are his friends,” she sighs. “That’s why he can’t pick between them.”

“So then have like a hundred groomsmen on one side and me and Blair on the other. Girl, it’s your wedding. If you want us doing cartwheels down the aisle, we will.”

“But then that makes the service big, and I’ll get nervous. You know me. I prefer wild animals over people.”

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