Holding Her Hand (The Reed Brothers 9)

She grabs my shirt and pulls me to face her. “Promise you won’t tell.” I have to read her lips because her hands are clutching my shirt tightly.

“I promise,” I tell her.

She looks doubtful.

“You can trust me,” I say.

She heaves out another sigh. “Okay.” She nods. “Thank you for the sandwich.”

“Will you go out with me?” I suddenly ask.

Her eyes narrow. “Why?”

I shrug. “Why not?”

“When you can come up with a better reason, ask me again, okay?” she says. She’s being sarcastic. I can tell by the way she’s holding her body.

She goes to the door, opens it and slips through, and I see two big men waiting for her in the hallway, so I know she’s okay. It’s not until five minutes later that I realize she was wearing my cap when she left.

Fuck.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out.

Samantha: Were you just with a Zero?

Me: Why is that your business?

Samantha: Are you kidding? Zero!

Me: Again, none of your business.

Samantha: You still hate me?

Me: I’d have

to care in order to hate you.

Samantha: Cold

I don’t respond to her after that and she doesn’t either. I do text Friday Reed, though.

Me: Do you have Lark’s phone #?

Tatted Bombshell (She put her phone number and name in my phone herself.): Why do you want it?

Me: Why do you care?

Tatted Bombshell: Are you being serious right now?

Me: She has my cap. I need to get it back.

Tatted Bombshell: I’ll text her and let her know.

Me: Why can’t you just give me her number?

Tatted Bombshell: She might not want you to have it.

Me: Then she can tell me that.