Page 89 of Forever Defiant
“You’re scared.”
I didn’t respond.
“And you’re annoyed you’re scared,” he added. “Which is, you know, cute.”
“I’m notfuckingcute,” I growled. I scrubbed a hand across my face, wishing he would give me a break or be a person who minded his own damn business. I looked around. Dante was talking to two of the coaches, his arms crossed as he spoke to them, completely dialed in to the conversation. “She’s still snooping,” I muttered.
Noah’s expression became serious. “Yeah, I figured.”
“She shouldn’t be.”
“No,” he agreed. “She shouldn’t.”
“But she is.”
“Of course she is.”
“And she didn’t—” my throat tightened — “tell me.”
Noah tilted his head. “Did she owe you that?”
A reasonable question, even if it was an infuriating one. I didn’t answer.
He sighed. “Look, she could have told us, I agree, but at the same time, she owes us nothing. She just met us.”
“Huh,” I muttered.
“And you guys only made out, right?”
I squinted at him, not sure where he was going with this. “Yeah?”
“So stop acting like she stabbed you.”
I shot him a look. “I’m not—”
“You are,” he said bluntly. “You’re pissed because... I actually don’t know why you’re so pissed. Dante has more reason to be pissed than you. Savvy went with her.”
I stared down at the floor. “She could get hurt.”
“They won’t,” he told me with confidence. “Honestly, I’m more sympathetic toward whoever’s opening the door tothem. Aren’t you?”
That actually made me laugh.
“I’m going to text her,” I said.
“Godspeed,” Noah murmured, crossing himself dramatically.
I grabbed my phone from the locker and opened my messages. Her name was glowing at the top —Peterson— mocking me. I typed out a message.
Me: You shouldn’t be in Nashville.
I deleted it. I typed again.
Me: Tell me you’re okay.
Nope. Not that, too needy.
I tried again.
