Page 107 of Craving Francesca

“The real one.” I narrowed my eyes at her as I sat up.

“Gray did what any other man in my family would’ve done.” She winced. “I know that’s probably not what you want to hear. Cian would’ve done that, too.”

“Seriously? He didn’t even tell me.”

“From what Cian said, Gray was really worried about you—”

I looked at Lou. “I told you people were talking about it.”

“To be fair,” Myla interrupted. “Cian had a huge bruise on his jaw where Gray punched him—”

“Oh, this just keeps getting better and better,” I bitched. I waved at her. “Go on.”

“Cian had to tell me because I wouldn’t let it go. He said Gray was really upset that the boys had told him everything was fine when it wasn’t.”

“Who else did he hit?”

“Cian wouldn’t say. I had to pry that much out of him.”

“Fucking fantastic.”

“Bringing it back around to my original point,” Myla said dryly. “He probably didn’t tell you because he didn’t want to worry you.”

“Not good enough.”

“Okay, but beyond all this,” Lou said carefully. “How is Gray otherwise?”

I set my beer on the porch and fell back onto the couch. “Awesome,” I mumbled.

“What was that?” Myla said with a chuckle.

“He’s great,” I sighed. “I think I’m in love with the asshole.”

“That was fast,” Lou muttered in surprise.

“Not really,” I hedged. “Remember that night that Myla got caught in Cian’s tent?”

“Hard to forget,” Myla grumbled.

“We hooked up that night.”

“No, you did not!” Lou screeched.

“Yup. It was a wham-bam situation, but I was sprung for sure—he just wasn’t interested in anything more than that.”

“He is now.”

“Yeah.”

“He has been for a while,” Lou added. “I mean, a guy doesn’t look at you like that if he’s not into you.”

“Oh, you’re an expert on longing looks now?” Myla teased.

“Shut up,” Lou shot back.

“Gray set up this whole thing to beat the crap out of Scott behind my back,” I reminded them before they could really bicker. “I don’t even know who he told or who he asked to do it. I kept it private for a reason, and he just spread the news all over.”

“It wasn’t Cian,” Myla said with a shrug. “He’s been home every night this week.”

---