“This from the woman who insisted I sign up for a hookup app and give sleeping with a stranger a try.”
“That’s different! You don’t bring hookups home. You certainly don’t move them into your backyard.” She hops off the swing and paces in front of me. “She’s so clever, finding her way in with you like that.”
I sigh. “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”
She stops pacing and glares at me. “She always hated me. Always wanted me out of the picture so she could have you for herself, and now she’s going to be living with you—”
“Not with us. Living in the pool house.”
“—and she’s going to feed you all kinds of poison about me. Maybe she’ll feed that poison to Hope too.” She folds her arms and hugs herself tight.
“I never meant for this to happen, but—”
“You accidentally fucked her?” Her eyes are blazing with anger.
“Since when do you care who I fuck?” I’ve never raised my voice at Amy. Never. Until just now.
“Since you decided to pick the worst possible option.”
“She’s not what you think. Not at all. You were so wrong about what happened at Allegiance. There was nothing between her and Clint but Clint being a handsy douche.”
Her gaze snaps up to mine, and I swear there’s panic in those blue eyes. “Is that what she said? And you believed her? What else did she tell you about Allegiance?”
“Why do you care so much?”
She bites her bottom lip, leaving a mark. “I want to know what lies she’s spreading about me.”
“What the hell is your problem with Stella, and why are you so convinced she has it out for you?” I stare at her. There was a time in my life that I could read everything on that face. I could tell if she was hiding something or just stressed by body language alone. But it’s been years since we had that kind of connection, and I can’t for the life of me figure out what’s behind this uncharacteristic tantrum.
“I don’t trust her.” She drops her arms and gives me a small smile. “Come on, Kace. This is Dean’s little sister. You know how she is. You’ve always been so careful about what influences Hope. Just . . . think with your head and not your dick on this one. She’s trouble.”
“You’re wrong about Stella. She’s had some bumps along the way, but she’s not the party girl I grew up with. She’s . . .” I sigh. “She’s one of the most caring, thoughtful people I know. I’m sorry you don’t see what I see, but this isn’t about you.”
“There are hundreds of women who’d do anything for a chance with a guy like you, and you’re giving everything to the first piece of ass who gives you a lick of attention.”
I rock back on my heels. “I need you to leave. I already told you I won’t let you talk about her like that. She doesn’t deserve it.”
Amy stares at me for a long time, eyes rimmed with tears, bottom lip trembling. Finally, she swallows and walks to her car.
I stand there and watch until she pulls away, turns the corner, and drives out of sight, and then I head inside to my computer.
I have an important message to send.Chapter TwentyStellaSmithy’s is packed. Even the outside patio is standing room only. Then again, it’s a beautiful Saturday evening and this is the best bar in town—though I might be biased.
I spot the girls in a booth at the back and work my way through the crowd to get to them. Looks like everyone is here. Brinley’s looking hot in a blue halter, and Savannah’s showing off her perfectly sculpted shoulders in a strapless top. Abbi’s the least flashy, as always, in a soft pink T-shirt that says, I drink coffee and I know things. I don’t remember the last time we all made it to girls’ night, but I’m glad to see their gorgeous faces.
“Stella!” Brinley shouts, spotting me before the others do. “We were starting to worry.”
“Sorry I’m late.” I slide into the booth beside Abbi. “I was . . .” Shit. I can’t finish that sentence honestly. Reluctantly, I settle on a lie. “I was studying.”
“How’s school?” Brinley asks.
I tense. “Not very well.”
Savvy frowns. “But you’re going to those study groups, right? Are those helping?”
I groan and sink into the seat. “Unfortunately, no. I know I was eighteen once, but I swear I understood how to stay on task even then.”
Brinley snorts. “Knowing how and having the will to do it are completely different things.”
“I just wish there were more people my age in the class. I need study help, but I don’t have the patience for the chatter and endless detours off topic. For every hour of study group, there’s maybe ten minutes of quality studying. This might’ve been a mistake.”