Finding Him (Covet 2)

What came out wasn’t what I expected. “You’re different, Julian. Everyone knows that. You’re . . . not the same guy.”

“This conversation, not making me feel better, Bridge.”

“You know what I mean.” He stood. “The coma changed you, you work your ass off, you rarely go out, you’ve bailed on every company event, including the gala. You do two things: go to the gym and work, and then sometimes when you’re feeling crazy you go to the gym twice in one day.”

“I’m trying to get bigger than you so when I do kick your ass it hurts.” I glared over the bottle.

He rolled his eyes. “I already told you that I’d gladly let you throw punches if you’d just react to something—anything. You’re alive, but you’re not living, man, you may as well have died with Mom.”

I charged him, bottle in hand. “Take it back!”

“No.” He eyed me up and down. “I won’t.”

“Son of a bitch.” I clenched my teeth and set the bottle down, then collapsed onto the couch. “Why are you here again?”

“Well, I was here to make sure you were okay and bring you your favorite whiskey, and then when I saw you drinking alone I got concerned, especially since you seemed actually happy at the cabin . . . with her.”

I swallowed slowly. “I was.”

“Then that’s your answer.” He said it like it was so simple. “Seek her out, get her number, take her to lunch, live a little.”

I nodded. “Maybe.”

“Fight for what you want, Julian.”

“Like I didn’t fight for Izzy? Is that what you mean?”

“Don’t put words into my mouth. You fought for her the only way you knew how, by fighting our father in order to protect her, to protect all of us. Let it go and move on. You deserve it.”

Then why didn’t I feel like it?

Why did I feel so defeated and like I didn’t stand a chance?

I shrugged, earning another sigh from Bridge as he walked toward the door then called over his shoulder, “You know you could always just slide into her DMs.”

“The fact that you just uttered that sentence makes me want to go back in time and prevent the universe from creating it.” I laughed. “You don’t just slide into a girl’s DMs on Instagram, that’s like sending a dick pic.”

“Even better!” Bridge agreed. “That’s the spirit, show her what she’s missing.”

“How am I the one dying alone?” I wondered out loud.

Bridge opened the door and wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, man up with some of that Tennyson grit, and go troll her social media.”

I stared him down. “I can’t decide if this is the best pep talk or the absolute worst.”

He winked and shut the door behind him.

And I stupidly took his advice, grabbed my phone, and immediately started following her on Instagram.

Along with seventeen and a half million other fans.

Great advice, Bridge. Great.

Defeated, I tossed my phone against the couch and went in search of clean clothes.

Chapter Twenty-Three

KEATON

My hands would heal.

I wasn’t going to lose any digits.

And I was no longer trapped by a killer elk and three feet of snow.

And I was sad.

I told my parents not to fly in and sent them a nice little proof-of-life photo. I filled them in on the need-to-know details and told them I was camping out in their lavish apartment until I figured out my next move.

The only problem?

He was in the city.

And because of that, I found that I didn’t want to leave.

To make matters worse, the words were gone.

I stared at my laptop the very next day with a fresh cup of coffee in my hand and a strong feeling that everything was going to be okay. I just had to tell the story.

Except, the minute I started typing, I wasn’t thinking of Noah. I was thinking about Julian.

About his mouth.

The way he kissed me.

Every all-consuming smile he flashed my way, the teasing, and the look on his face when the ambulance pulled away.

I didn’t have his phone number, I hadn’t even thought about it. And now I felt weird just randomly looking him up and going, “Oh hey, remember me? The girl who coerced you into sex after chocolate chip cookies?”

I frowned at the laptop screen.

I hadn’t exactly coerced him.

It had been a joint decision, right?

I thought back about the hesitation in his eyes, the way he licked the chocolate from my lips and waited like he needed permission from me, and the embarrassing way I basically threw myself at him with wild abandon.

I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. It would be fine. I was alone in my parents’ Manhattan penthouse, and all I kept thinking was how I missed the cabin.

But I missed Julian more.

I put my hands on the keyboard and took a deep breath, just as my cell started to buzz.