Page 50 of Almost Yours
She hums. “Hesaidthat, huh?”
I nod. “Yeah. And I think he means it.”
Whitley studies me, that familiar look of half doubt, half reluctant acceptance settling in. After a moment, she exhales and leans back.
“You know I love you, and I’m on your side,” she starts, “but if you think your dad isn’t going to have a full-on aneurysm over this, you are deeply, profoundly delusional.”
I wince. “I know.”
“Hehateshim, Violet. Like, capital H, sharpened-pitchforks kind of hate from what I gathered.”
For a second, she looks so worried, it almost yanks me out of the afterglow. No, my dad has never been a fan because Rowan was the one who brought me out of my sheltered, good girl shell every once in a while. Sneaking off to parties I shouldn’t have been at, hiding behind excuses that made my dad’s blood pressure spike. Dad saw him as an unworthy distraction from the path he’d worked so hard to set me on.
It doesn’t help that Rowan is…well, Rowan. He’s magnetic and unpredictable. Dad expects me to be with someone like Travis, who checks all the boxes he spent years teaching me to value.
“It’s not like I have to run off and announce my dating status to my parents,” I say. “We’re adults, Whit.”
She snorts. “You say that now, but you’re a nervous rambler. He’ll extract the truth in, what—forty-eight hours?”
“Maybe.” I shrug, then add quietly, “But he’s not the one who has to wake up every day wondering what might’ve been.”
Whitley’s teasing expression fades. “Yeah,” she says, gentle now. “I get that. That kind of question doesn’t ever really shut up.”
Then, because she knows exactly how long to let the heaviness sit, her mouth curves into a grin and she bumps my leg again.
“So,” she says lightly, “when do I get to meet the guy who made you bust out the heart eyes?”
“The what?”
“You heard me. If he’s serious about you—from the way you’re glowing like a damn porch light, I’m guessing he is—I obviously need to meet him.”
The only thing more terrifying than picturing that scenario is imagining what would happen if it didn’t go well. Whit, whose “pleasantly intimidating” superpower is known across three counties, versus Rowan, whose record with authority figures is, to put it kindly, abysmal.
Yeah. Thinking about it makes me want to crawl under the couch.
I groan. “Please don’t scare him off. No calling him Wolfe Boy to his face.”
“No promises.” She shrugs. “Besides, it’s not like I can just sit back and let you spiral into a tragic second-chance romance without vetting the leading man. I have standards.”
“Do you? Because I’ve seen your exes.”
She gasps dramatically. “Wow. Hurtful. I’m trying to protect your fragile little heart here, and this is the thanks I get?”
I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up despite the knot of nerves tightening in my stomach. Whitley may be a lot of things, but she’s always had my back. Even if her protective methods are a little…aggressive. “Fine. You can meet him.”
“Good. Because if he’s sticking around, I need to know whether I’m teamThis Could Workor teamBackup Shovel. But forwhat it’s worth…I’m glad he’s here. You deserve good things. Even if your dad’s gonna lose his shit.”
My chest tugs at that, in the best way. “Thanks.”
She hums, clearly satisfied with herself. “Now go shower or something. You’ve got post make out hair, and it’s making me jealous.”
twenty
. . .
Violet
By the following Friday night, I’m still not over that kiss. Not even close.
