Page 81 of Bone Deep
I’m lost in thought when Jen appears out of nowhere, sidling up to the bar and giving me a once-over.
Fuck.Alarm bells go off in my head.Here we go.
“What?” I sigh, bracing for impact. I know she was playing at something earlier with Murph.
She huffs, “Don’t ‘what’ me. What the hell’s up with you? I know weddings aren’t your happy place, but you look like someone took a shit in your Jimmy Choo’s.”
The bartender slides the whiskeys over. Without missing a beat I say, “Can we get an orange juice for preggers over here, please? I think her blood sugar’s low.”
Jen flashes her teeth at me. “How did you know that’s what I wanted?”
“Because” I raise a brow and take a sip of my scotch, “I know you, Jen. It’s against my will, but I do.”
“You’re welcome.” She shrugs.
When the bartender brings her juice, I slide it over. “Drink your juice, Shelby.”
She cackles, clutching her glass. “Ha! Very funny. We need to do movie night soon and start with that one.” I nod, and she catches my brief smile. “So, what’s going on with you and Ryan?”
Panic spikes. When Jen gets a scent, she doesn’t let go. “Nothing’s going on. What do you mean?”
She tilts her head. “Oh, I don’t know. You were pretty growly when Ryan was getting all chummy with Murph. You had murder eyes and everything.”
I scoff, but inside, my pulse is racing. “Why would I be growly? There’s nothing to be growly about. No growling happening.”
She just gives me that look, like she’s already figured out the truth and is waiting for me to catch up. I fidget with my scotch glass. “Besides” I say, as casually as I can, “Ryan is straight.” The lie tastes like battery acid on my tongue, but I won’t be the one to out him.
“Mmhmm,” she says, voice loaded.
She sips her juice, then sighs, rubbing her very pregnant belly. “I don’t know, Murph is fucking delicious. I don’t think there’s a gender or sexuality safe from that level of sexy.”
I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Good for him.”
Jen leans in conspiratorially. “But my Spidey senses tell me that tattooed pretty boy likes the dick. Which—I’m surprised you haven’t been all over him. Why is that?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Just not in the mood, I guess.”
She gives me a knowing look. “Yeah, okay. Or maybe you’ve got someone else’s ass on the brain.” She nods toward Ryan, still chatting with the grooms.
I grab the drinks I ordered, and turn to go, but she grabs my arm, stopping me. Her face softens. “Maybe it’s time to let yourself have something. To believe in someone.”
My shoulders slump. “We’ve been over this a thousand times, Jen. I don’t—”
She cuts me off. “I know exactly how you’ve been hurt. But not everyone is Travis.” She nods her chin toward Ryan again.
My throat closes up, the old ache pressing at my ribs. I lean down, press a kiss to her cheek, and whisper, “I love you, and that’s about all I have capacity for, friend.”
She squeezes my arm, hard. “I don’t believe you. And we’re not done talking about this. Now shoo. I need to go find a man with a fetish for pregnant women.”
I bark a surprised laugh and escape, weaving through the tables toward Ryan. He’s still with Anthony and Chance, all of them beaming like something out of a damn romantic comedy. I hang back for a second, taking it in—the way Ryan’s head tips back when he laughs, the way his hands move as he talks, how present and easy he looks with his friends.
I don’t know how I got here, but Jen is right. Normally, I would’ve been putting my best moves on the best man, but thethought didn’t even cross my mind. I didn’t clock how hot he was—not until he was making googly eyes at Ryan.
And now, I’ve not only agreed to go to a football game for him, but I’m actually…excited? Like I’m some giggly sorority girl. I might as well be flipping my hair, for fuck’s sake. And this is how I know I will be undeniably and unavoidably fucked if I don’t stick to my rules.
I watch Ryan turn and catch my eye, those dimples on full display. He waves me over, and just like that, I go—because he asked, and because I want to. And it scares me senseless; how much I want to.
It scares me because, in my experience, people either push you away or leave you. My father. Travis. And perhaps, most painfully, my mother.
