Page 6 of Breathless

I look for streaks of purple or blue or hot pink that might be tucked away, but I can’t see any of her usual unicorn colors. She must’ve gone with something safe for thewedding.

Patrick shoves me out of the way. “Josephine Grayson, it’s been toolong.”

When he swoops her into his arms and twirls her around, making her laugh, I have a sudden urge to punch him in thenutsack.

“Put her down, asshole. She’s not adoll.”

He gives me a look. “Why can’t I pick her up? Youdid.”

“’Cause she’s my best friend. Notyours.”

He sets her on her feet and gives me another playful shove. “Whatcha gonna do? Whip it out and pee a circle around her so no one else talks to her? Huh?” He jumps around the parking lot like he’s going to mock-fightme.

A small hand lands on my chest, and I look down to catch Joey trying not to smile. “Guys, stop talking about me like I’m nothere.”

I pull her into a head lock, smiling when she lets out a squeal. This is our standard operating procedure.“Oh, you finally decided to grace us with your presence, Itsy Bitsy?” When she was six, she played a spider in the school play, and sometimes I need to give her shit aboutit.

As I drag her to my truck, she screams, “Shotgun!”

Patrick curses, and Ilaugh.

“Am I seriously getting booted?” Patrick’s face scrunches up like this is a surprise to him as he folds himself into the back and I give Joey a boost into the passengerseat.

“Joey gets shotgun.” I shut her door and walk around the front of the cab, relishing the sight of her in my vehicle. Damn. She’s a sight for soreeyes.

But Patrick won’t shut up. When I climb in, he’s at it again. “Bro, she’s been gone. For six months. Don’t I get any credit for sticking around your sorry, mopey ass all thattime?”

“Josephine always gets shotgun. That’s just how it is, man. Sorry.” Even though I’m trying to keep things light, being reminded of her leaving sucks the air out of thetruck.

I can tell Joey senses it too because she looks down at her lap where her hands are twistedtogether.

“Hey.” I tug on the sleeve of her T-shirt until she makes eye contact. “I don’t care what happened. Why you left or why you didn’t call me.” I sigh and glance away. “I mean, I do care, but I want you to know I’m not mad that I didn’t hear from you, okay? I’m just glad you’rehome.”

Have I racked my brain trying to figure out if I did something to hurt her? To push her away like that? To make her run across the damncountry?

Yes to all of those questions. And I aim to find out the truth at somepoint.

But for now, I just want my best friendback.

I stare into those stunning gray eyes that somehow make time stand still. “You can tell me anything. I’m not going anywhere. Because you’re stuck with me.” I clear my throat and glance at the parking lot. “While I’m laying it all out there, I should say how much I missed you. Patrick was right. I was a littlemopey.”

Thanks, asshole, for pointing itout.

Joey’s eyes get misty, and it guts me because I figure whatever made her hightail it to Floridaisa big deal. But if this is how I get to keep my girl, by laying off and chilling out, then this is what I have todo.

“Missed you too, Logan. I’m sorry thatI—”

I shake my head, and she gets my meaning. Noapologies.

Joey is always the first to apologize for shit that’s not her fault, and I can’t bear the thought of her doing that right now. I might not know why she left, but she obviously felt she needed to, and I respect that. But the last thing I wanna do is hash that out with an audience. This is between her and me. That’s it. Later, when it’s just the two of us, we can have a heart-to-heart.

The idea of losing Joey the way I lost my friendship with Silas—randomly, like the universe has nothing better to do than fuck me over—makes me willing to do almost anything to smooth this over withJo.

Without a second thought, I grab her hand to reassure her, threading my fingers through hers. Something I’ve never done before, and the intimacy of it makes mepause.

Sure, I’ve grabbed her hand in the past. I held her hand all the time when we were kids because she couldn’t cross the street otherwise, but this is somethingdifferent.

She seems to notice it too, studying our intertwined hands, her small, smooth fingers engulfed by my big, rough paw that’s spent too many hours in the barn grooming horses and shovelingshit.

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