And it had to stop. She couldn’t let herself continue like this.
She’d sensed things moving too quickly from early on. Even Leesha had picked up on it. But now Georgia knew beyond a doubt that it was more than a crush or a fling. Keats and Colby looked at her in a way that made her physically hurt. They looked at her like she mattered. Like this was so much more than sex. Like they wanted her to stay.
But she couldn’t.
She had to go back to Chicago for as long as it took. It wasn’t fair to ask the guys to wait around for her or put their lives on hold. Beyond the fact that there was no guarantee a relationship with the three of them would work long term anyway, her fate was in the hands of the court. If Phillip went free, she wouldn’t be able to come back, and she definitely wouldn’t be able to date anyone.
These letters confirmed exactly how dangerous that would be. No one else can ever love you like I do. Translation: I will kill every bastard who tries.
No. Phillip needed to be out of her life for good before she could let someone else in.
She knew what she needed to do. And part of that meant ending this relationship with Colby and Keats when she left. They could enjoy their remaining time together, but she couldn’t string them along with no definite outcome, and she wouldn’t do that to herself either. Her heart was already breaking, thinking about walking away from them, and that wasn’t where her head needed to be. She needed to put all her focus on Phillip. On beating this man who had hijacked her life and taken her sister away.
Until he was locked away, there was no space in her life for anything else. Love had gotten her in trouble the first time, but she wouldn’t let it derail her again.
She didn’t get to fall in love right now.
The guys would be fine without her.
Even if she might not be fine without them.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Keats popped a chunk of bell pepper in his mouth as he chopped the rest of the vegetables for the stir-fry he was making and sang along with the Keith Urban song playing on the radio. The door opened behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to find Georgia hauling in a bag of groceries.
He set down the knife and went over to take it from her. “What’s all this? I’ve already gotten everything for Thursday.”
She handed over the bag and set her purse on the counter. “I didn’t see any sweets in your stash, so I bought stuff to make dessert. It’s Thanksgiving, we need pie.”
“Pumpkin?” he said, trying not to make a face. He wasn’t a fan. That was all he remembered about Thanksgivings with his dad and Justin—going to the crappy diner in town and eating instant mashed potatoes, mushy turkey, and wet pumpkin pie.
“Nope, pecan. Plus, cranberry vanilla cheesecake. Got the recipe from my good friend Giada.”
“So Food Network?” he teased. He’d learned over the past few weeks that Georgia had a bit of an addiction to cooking shows.
She touched her finger to her nose and pointed at him in the universal you guessed it gesture, but her smile seemed distant, distracted. “It will probably be a complete disaster. I’ve never made it before, and I had to buy a special pan and everything. Is your brother still coming?”
“Yeah, he’s bringing the liquor, which is good. He may need it when he finds out that I’m also dating a guy and that the guy is Colby.”
“You think he’s going to freak out?”
“Probably. But I think he’ll be fine once he gets over the initial shock. I went to lunch with him the other day and told him I’m bi. He was totally okay with it. He said my dad’s views were never his and that after almost dying from that roadside bomb in Afghanistan, he’s learned how important it is to grab happiness wherever you can find it.”
Something flickered through Georgia’s eyes, but whatever it was disappeared before Keats could pinpoint it. “I’m really glad things are working out for you two. It’s good to have family around.”
“Yeah, it is. I didn’t realize how much I missed having that in my life.” He peered into the bag. “Did you go out and get all of this on your own?”
She tilted her chin up. “Yep. Second solo trip this week and no panic attacks. I even strolled through a bookstore before I got the groceries. They have my newest book on one of the front tables.”
He set aside the groceries and swept her into his arms. “Score.”
Since that day they’d gone to see his dad, she hadn’t let herself go more than two days without leaving the house. She’d put herself on a training schedule like a marathon runner. Each time she went out, she stayed out for longer, pushing herself to her limit.
He and Colby had taken to humming the Rocky theme music to her every time they got in the car, which always made her roll her eyes. And late last week, she’d decided she was ready to try it without him or Colby accompanying her.
And really, since that first shopping trip they’d all taken together, she’d had only two occasions where the panic had gotten the better of her. Once when an overzealous fan of her books had recognized her in a store and had hugged Georgia without warning. And another this past weekend when they’d gone to the bar to listen to Colby play and a drunk guy had crowded her in the hallway, trying to come on to her. Keats had been a few yards away and had hurried over when he saw what was happening, ready to kick the guy’s ass if he put his hands on Georgia. But before Keats had reached her, Georgia had put out her palms and shoved the guy back, shouting, “Back off, asshole.”
The guy, unsteady on his feet already, had hit the wall and said something nasty to her. She’d stepped up to him, poked a finger into his chest, and told him something Keats hadn’t been able to hear. The guy’s eyes had gone wide and he’d raised his palms in surrender.