Page 78 of Friends Don't

To be believed.

I’ve always wondered who would understand. Who would take the side of a dude with a slightly tumultuous past over the side of the town’s golden child? Who would share the weight of the secret I’ve carried all these years?

It’s Poppy.

I let the warmth of her embrace stitch up all the jagged edges of my heart.

When she finally eases back, she searches my eyes. It’s only then that I realize my cheeks are wet, but I’m not embarrassed in front of Poppy.

She cups my cheeks with her small hands. “You, Big Mack Bradley, are a good man.” She presses her lips to my forehead. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Thank you for listening. Please promise not to tell anyone.”

She stares at me. “Even Collin doesn’t know, huh?”

“It would put him in an impossible position. I never wanted to drag him into it. He has his suspicions, but…” I trail off. “Mostly it’s Tricia’s parents. Maybe it would be okay now that she’s married and has a family, but I don’t think she was wrong in thinking they would have been cruel to her had they found out when we were younger. Her dad sort of rules the family with an iron fist. Sometimes I worry about Collin, living in his dad’s shadow at the police department.”

“Like I said”—she presses her pointer finger into my chest—“you are a good man, and you have my word. I won’t say anything.”

She scoots off my lap, and I instantly feel the loss.

She lies back in the truck, and I follow suit. “Can we stay out here for a while?”

I stretch out next to her. I’d stay here with her forever.

23

Death by Drill

Poppy

Iwakeupandsniff. Something smells good. It’s my pillow. Did I do laundry recently? It smells like soap and a hint of mint. It’s soft and warm, and I press my nose further into it and burrow my head, rubbing my nose back and forth like I’m a little bunny rabbit.

When my pillow moves under me, my eyes fly open.

I blink. Blink again.

I’m in the back of Mack’s truck. He’s got his arms cinched around me, and I’m lying half on top of him. His shirt is my pillow.

I should have known something was off.

I am the worst at keeping up with my laundry.

I try to keep my body still, but my mind is the opposite of still. It’s racing a mile a minute. How did this happen? We were talking and looking at the stars, and we must’ve fallen asleep.

I guess it’s not surprising since we pretty much bared our souls to each other last night. We were both exhausted.

My brain switches gears and starts chronicling every inch of Mack. His breath is even and warm against my forehead. He’s been hiding some serious abdominal muscles under his t-shirts, because I can feel the ab ridges from my position curled up here next to him. He’s clinging to me with a grip that says he never wants to let go.

I don’t want to move. I don’t want him to let go.

My entire body bursts into flames at the realization.

I never, in the entire time I was dating Holland, felt the way for him that I feel for Mack—physically and emotionally.

Because that’s the thing.

I’m viscerally attracted to Mack Bradley. It’s long past time to admit that. But I’m more drawn to how he makes me feel. How I can be around him.

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