“And I told you it wasn’t your call alone to make. Tory isn’t yours. She’s ours. Get that through your thick skull.”
“So, what, now we’re going to make her choose between your trip and mine? That’s juvenile, damn it!”
“All I know is that I’m damn tired of seeing that look on your face when it comes to her.”
Con threw up his hands and shouted, “What look?”
“You want her for yourself. It’s so obvious it’s not even funny.”
Jesus, he really was transparent. “I never said that,” he hedged.
Devon pointed a finger at him. “You want me away from her,” he ground out. “Admit it, God damn you!”
Fury had Con speaking without thinking. “Fine! I want her for myself! I see you with her and my blood boils. I see her touching you and it makes me want to hit something. Are you happy? Is that what you want to hear?”
Devon shook his head. “No, Con, I’m not happy.”
Con cursed. He’d seen that look on his friend’s face only once before. They’d been nineteen, working dead-end jobs and trying to make ends meet. Con had come home to their shit apartment in a bad mood one night. Hell, he couldn’t even remember what had set it off. He’d taken it out on Devon, though. The final straw had been when Con had punched him in the face. He’d broken Devon’s nose. Devon had looked hurt—and not just physically.
“Look, man, I’m sorry,” Con muttered. “I’ll get my shit together, I promise.”
Devon didn’t look convinced. “You know this can’t work if we’re not both in it one hundred percent, right?”
Con shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling like the biggest jerk in the world. He was wrecking everything. Con Walker, always the screw-up. “I know, I know.”
“So, maybe we should do like we did at Christmas.”
Con stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“We leave the decision to Tory.”
“You really want her to choose between us? That’s not fair to Tory, and you know it.”
Devon shook his head and looked down at the floor. Con found himself holding his breath. When Devon’s gaze came back up to meet his, he could swear his eyes were a little too bright, a little too watery. “I’m not trying to get all sappy here.”
“But?”
“I care about you. Like a brother. That will never change.”
“Same here, Dev.” Con stepped forward, a sense of foreboding skating down his spine. Devon put up a hand in warning, effectively stopping Con in his tracks.
“I know you, Con. You aren’t going to get over this.” Con started to argue, but Devon rode right over him. “You want Tory and you want me gone. I can’t walk away. I can’t give her up—not unless it’s what she wants.”
How had things gone from great to shit so damn fast? This was a new record for him. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”
“Then we need to figure out a way to make this work. For all of us.”
Con had racked his brain trying to think of some way to get
over his growing possessiveness toward Tory—and he’d come up blank. “Got any suggestions? Because I’m fresh out of ideas here.”
Devon quirked a brow. “Actually, I do have a suggestion.”
For the first time in weeks, Con felt a spark of hope. “I’m all ears. Spill.”
“Not yet.”
“What the hell do you mean, not yet?” Con cursed under his breath. “My life is spinning out of control and you want to play twenty questions?”