Page 26 of The Worst Kind of Promise
Bristol shovels a piece of steak into his mouth. “Of course we do. You’re our guest. And our favorite Hollings.”
“I’d be offended, but they’re right,” Hayes agrees, pointing the tines of his fork at her, then biting the crispy potato on the end.
Fulton nods. “We were surprised you were coming at all.”
Gage kicks him underneath the table—which I only know because he does that frequently, and every time, Fulton winces like he’s been hit in the balls.
“Not in a bad way! We’re happy you’re here,” he corrects himself. “We just didn’t expect your next visit to be for a while.”
Faye’s face turns ashen, and the sight of it makes my heart jerk. “I just missed you all so much, you know? And my boss granted me some time off work since a lot of our students weren’t enrolled in summer classes.”
“I have no idea how you survived in a car for forty-eight hours with Kit.” Gage waves a hand in my general direction, smirking to himself while he kebabs a potato, a piece of meat, and some lettuce. “Dude has some of the worst jokes.”
“My jokes are hilarious,” I grumble.
“They aren’tthatbad,” Faye murmurs quietly, a blush peeking out from the neckline of her shirt.
I’m staring straight at her like I have X-ray vision, wishing I could see those big, chocolate-brown eyes looking back at me. A smile would be nice, too, but that’s wishful thinking.
“Did he pay you to say that? Are you being held at gunpoint underneath the table? Blink twice if you’re in trouble, Faye,” Gage says.
I give Gage the middle finger, but all he does is blow me a kiss.
“Aeris, when did you learn how to cook?” Fulton questions, hoovering his dinner up like the plate will be yanked from him at any moment.
Aeris fans herself. “Oh, I mean, it’s no five-star Michelin meal, but Hayes has been showing me a few things.”
“That’s not all he’s been showing her,” Gage quips under his breath, yet somehow loud enough for the whole table to hear.
Hayes chuckles, and I know that chuckle—edged with absolute madness. “Tell me, G. How’syoursex life going?”
“Great, thank you. I do it twice a day.”
“That explains why your arm’s looking bigger.”
The dining room erupts into laughter, Fulton red in the face at his friend’s expense. I even feel some of the tension in my shoulders loosening. I miss easy nights with the guys. I love the camaraderie that’s been created in this house. Even Aeris has been a great addition to our group— a sweet, no-nonsense kind of gal, who unfortunately has to put up with a lot of our immaturity.
Aeris rolls her eyes, pivoting the conversation. “So, Faye, we were thinking it might be fun to throw a pool party here at the end of the week. We’d invite the whole team as a way to kick off the summer. Would you be up for that?”
And…tension resumed. The food I just scarfed down is working its way back up. Pool party. I don’t think Faye’s in the right headspace for a party environment. I know what she’s going to say, though, even if she doesn’t want to do it. She’s going to say yes, because Faye is a people pleaser, and she would never want to be the reason for capsized plans.
“That sounds fun,” she responds with a tepid smile, thescreeof her fork on her plate sounding like a silent plea for help.
“Maybe we should keep things low-key,” I chime in, hoping that the suggestion might mollify her. Usually I’m all for a wild Reapers party, but that’s the last thing Faye needs right now, and surprisingly, I couldn’t be less interested. Since I saw her sitting alone on that gas station curb, I’ve felt protective over her. In reality, there probably isn’t any harm in throwing a party. But I never think very clearly when Faye’s involved.
“Low-key? Coming from Kit Langley?” Gage’s brow arches, chaos blazing in his eyes. “This has to be a summer blowout.”
“How big of a blowout?” Hayes asks, sharing an implicit look around the table that says,Little sister present, make good choices.
Aeris reaches over to give his arm a squeeze. “Nothing too crazy. Right, guys?”
Everyone around the table gives a nod of agreement except for me. And that’s when every head turns, giving me the much-unwanted spotlight. I’m halfway through chewing a rather gristly cut of steak.
I swallow. “What?”
“You didn’t nod,” Gage notes.
“I did nod.”
