Kian

“Who?” I asked, my head skirting from Jake to Erica and back again. “Who texted you just now?”

“Oh, right.” Jake gave me a glaring look. “’Cause we’re friends still? That means, I owe you an answer.” The glare turned to ice as his eyes switched to Kian. “I don’t owe you a goddamn thing, Jo.”

“Jordan.”

We all looked at Erica.

She folded her arms over her chest, her chin rising in a challenge, as her eyes centered only on me. “Her name is Jordan.”

Oh, boy. My hand pressed against my side, trying to calm myself down.

It wouldn’t work though. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. They were angry. They were hurt. And they had every reason to be.

“I’m sorry.” I looked each one of them in the eyes—Erica, Wanker, Jake, and back to Erica again. “I have never trusted one person in my life. Ever. The people who I should’ve…well, my foster father tried to kill me, and my foster mother let it happen.” I pointed to Kian. “He is the one person who protected me. And he’s done it over and over again. I lied to you all because I had no idea if I could go against everything I’d been taught in my life, and that was not to trust anyone.” I moved closer to Erica. I was within arm’s length now. “I am sorry if I hurt you. I really am.”

She was wavering. I saw it in her eyes. A softness was entering there. Her arms fell from her chest, and her head went back down, but she didn’t say anything. She was still so silent.

Maybe this was a mistake?

Since waking up, I knew I had to try, but maybe my lies were too much to overcome. I glanced at Kian, and I started to go toward him.

Erica said, stopping me, “Okay, okay. We really don’t have much to be pissed about.”

My eyes widened. A weight lifted from my chest. “Are you su—”

Jake muttered, “Fuck this.” He went for the door, shaking his head. His shoulders were tight in anger.

As he reached for the door handle, Erica called after him, “You can’t say a word, Jake!”

He stopped, but he didn’t turn around. “I won’t, but that doesn’t mean I have to stay here and listen to this bullshit either.” Yanking the door open, he threw over his shoulder, “Your secret’s safe. I won’t tell a soul you’re here.” He was gone then, and the door closed behind him.

Erica flicked her hand at him in a dismissive manner. She rolled her eyes, saying, “His ego is bruised. Seriously, like he’s got a leg to stand on. He was with you when he got back with his ex-girlfriend, and you two only started hanging out again. The way I see it, the only person who can be upset is me.”

Wanker cleared his throat.

She said to him, “She’s my roommate and friend.”

He folded his hands together and looked down at them, but his soft voice sounded. “She’s my friend, too.”

My heart melted then.

This was Wanker—the Wanker who had always been there; the Wanker who, if we’d ever needed anything, he would be there in a heartbeat; the Wanker who had loved Erica for two years and never said a word, never got upset when she picked another guy over and over again; and the same guy who would always be there for her, no matter who she picked.

Erica was very lucky to have Wanker in her life, and glancing at her now, I saw the softening on her face.

He took his glasses off, cleaned them with the bottom of his shirt, and put them back on. A rueful nod came my way, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “Thank you for coming back, Jo. Even if she doesn’t say it, Erica’s glad, too.”

“Thank you, Wanker.”

Kian was watching the exchange, and I found his gaze now, but he was focused on Wanker. I was surprised. Instead of the normal reserved and walled-up expression that I thought he’d have, his eyes were narrowed slightly, and his head was inclined forward. He was curious about Wanker. When he turned to me, a look of approval flashed over his features, and he gave me the slightest of grins. Kian liked Wanker.

I liked knowing that. I wanted him to like my friends, and thinking of that, I still owed Erica the explanation of all explanations.

I asked Kian, “What time is Laura coming?”

Erica frowned. “The publicist, Laura?”

Kian answered me, “She’s here. She texted. She’s at the hotel, waiting for me.”

Me.

Not us.

I didn’t think he meant to say that or maybe I was being sensitive, but I remembered Snark’s words. “They’re his team, not yours. You are not their client.” He was right.

Laura was Kian’s publicist, not mine.

“Well,” Erica said as soon as the door closed behind Kian, “he was hella hot for the interview before, but seeing him up close and personal and when he looked at you”—she pretended to fan herself—“a volcano would’ve melted itself. The chemistry between you two is hot.”