Crazy for Your Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 5)

Carter grazes his knuckles over my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

No. I’m not okay. Why does Rich even have these pictures? “Excuse me,” I murmur.

I race up the stairs to our room, fumbling with the key at the door before closing myself in the bathroom. I slide down the wall, put my head in my hands, and try to remember how to breathe.

The soft rap of knuckles and then: “Teagan?” Carter’s voice. Soft. Soothing. Worried.

I flinch. “I’m okay. I think maybe I . . . maybe I had too much bar food today.” I bite my lip, hating the lie.

“Anything I can do?”

“No. I just need a minute. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” He sighs heavily, and I imagine him closing his eyes. He knows me well enough that I’m sure he’s not buying my lie. Hell, a few minutes ago, I was ready to come up here and jump him, and now I’m hiding in the bathroom.

I was an idiot to think Rich wouldn’t find a way to get to me this weekend. I was an idiot who convinced myself I wanted Carter to save me from Rich, when the real thing I need to be saved from is my own mistakes.

Carter

With the exception of those held in honor of my brothers, bachelor parties aren’t exactly my thing. A bachelor party full of strangers is high on my list of activities I’d rather avoid.

I was hoping I’d get a pass, but Liam found me after dinner and insisted I join them. With a broad smile and a smack on the back, he said he’d be disappointed if I didn’t go. I like the guy, so honestly, that would have been enough, but I also figured that if I were really Teagan’s boyfriend, I wouldn’t hesitate.

So here I am, at the back of Jackson Brews with a handful of strangers. Teagan’s dad joined us for a drink then excused himself—no doubt wanting to spare himself any inappropriate conversation that might include his daughter and future son-in-law. Liam’s dad is here, but he’s content to sit at the bar and grill Jake on the science behind the perfect IPA.

The good news is that the party seems to be nothing more than hanging at my family’s bar playing poker. The bad news is I managed to find myself seated right next to Rich.

“Teagan seemed upset at dinner,” Rich says, eyes on his cards. “Is everything okay?”

I bite back my scowl. “She’s great. Why would you say that?” Or she was great until someone sent her a text that upset her—a text she wouldn’t even talk to me about. She was distant the rest of the evening, claiming she wanted a shower before dinner and then avoiding my gaze all through the meal.

Did he send the text? Is that why he has that knowing smirk on his face?

“Oh, I know Teagan, and she definitely was not fine. In fact, she seemed pretty distressed. I would’ve thought you’d . . .” Rich’s jaw drops, and I turn in the direction of his stare as Myla slides into my lap.

“Hey, you!” She wraps her arms behind my neck and nuzzles my ear. “How are you? God, I’ve missed you this last week. Maybe I wouldn’t have but that conference was a drag, and I miss our dirty texts, and I’ve been dying to talk to you and here you are. What do you say we get out of here?”

“Myla.” I push her away gently. “You’re drunk.”

“Does it matter?” She giggles. Rich is watching everything. She wiggles in my lap, and I scoot my chair back to stand, forcing her to her feet too.

“We aren’t doing this anymore, remember?” I say softly.

Myla’s lips curve into a pout, and I can see the moment the memory registers in her drunken brain. Her eyes fill with tears. “You didn’t really explain. I know this wasn’t supposed to be serious, but it always felt like more than just fun to me.”

Now the whole damn table is watching us. Rich looks cocky as hell, and Liam’s brow crinkles as his gaze bounces between me and Myla.

“Can we go outside and talk?” I ask softly.

Myla nods, her chin wobbling, and I lead her outside.

The night is cool but still warm enough that downtown is bustling with people enjoying the last weeks of balmy weather before winter comes. “Come back here,” I say, nodding down the alley. We’ll talk in the back where there are fewer eyes.

“I’m such an idiot,” she says, sniffing beside me. “God, it’s no wonder you don’t want to really be with me if I get drunk and forget important things, like Hey, that asshole dumped you.”

I tilt my face to the sky and make myself process her words.

Asshole.

Dumped.

Myla knew the score. She knew I was seeing other people. Knew I didn’t want anything serious. But it doesn’t matter, and I should’ve known this would happen.