"I doubt anyone else will see it that way. It’s wrong."
"No, it’s not. Fuck everyone else. Who gives a shit?"
My insides warm at her outburst. Denielle has always had my back. I couldn’t wish for a better best friend. For the first time, I look around to make sure no one is listening to our conversation.
"What am I going to do? I mean, it’s not like we can be together."
There is a sour taste in my mouth, and I feel like someone has deposited a fifty-pound weight on my chest.
"Well, as I see it, it’s whatever you two make of it. It can be nothing. You can keep going as it is: he dates the Wicked Bitch, and both of you are miserable,orit could be everything for the two of you."
"But we can’t be together." She doesn’t get it. To everyone else, we’re blood-related. That’s incest.
Denielle moves so she is facing me head-on and puts her hands on each side of my face to force me to look at her.
"Yet," she says with a stern tone. "This will not last forever. Eventually, you’ll have to come clean to Heather and Tristen, and one day, this whole cluster-fuck will be cleared up. That’s when you can officially be together. But it’syourchoice."
My choice.
My forehead tilts forward to rest on hers. "Thank you."
She moves her hands, gives me a kiss on the cheek, and stands up, holding out her hand. "Let’s hit the shower and go find your soulmate."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Approaching the locker room doors,my heart rate triples with every step. I fight the urge to dig my heels into the ground, and Denielle pretty much pushes me through the double doors.
I scan my surroundings, but Rhys is nowhere in sight. A sigh of reliefand disappointmentescapes me, which makes Denielle cackle at my side. In the shower, I asked to spend the rest of the weekend at her house, and she just doubled over laughing. I’m so glad my best friend finds my situation hilarious. I just can’t face anyone until I figure out what I want to do about my newest revelation. I’m in love with Rhys.
I send Heather a text that I’m staying at Denielle’s and prepare myself for some sort of argument since I’ve always had to plead in advance before I was allowed to spend the night there.
Have fun, sweetie. Dad is taking Natty and me to the museum tomorrow. We’ll be back after dinner.
I read the message twice before tilting the screen toward Denielle. "Umm...does she have the wrong child? She has to have confused me with Rhys, right?"
Den shrugs. "I don’t think Rhys would even tell them if he wasn’t coming home."
Fair point.
We’re in Denielle’s room, lounging on her king-size bed while her 60-inch flatscreen is showing reruns of one of the CW’s vampire shows. Usually, I would be totally into it, but not today.
A lump forms in my throat. When I go home tomorrow, I’ll have to face Rhys alone...unless I wait until the evening, which is the coward’s way out.
Why is it all of a sudden so hard to breathe in here?
Before we go to bed, I text Spence that I need a training session ASAP. I hope that a good workout will help me clear some of the fog in my mind, and maybe I’ll have an epiphany about what to do about Rhys. My phone vibrates not a minute later.
No problem, kiddo. Your brother canceled his session tomorrow. Meet around 9?
Rhys canceled his session? Why would he do that? Unless he is waiting for me to come home.
Oh great, the butterflies in my stomach made room for hornets on steroids.
I walkinto our usual training room at eight fifty-five with Denielle on my heels. She has not stopped muttering obscenities at me since I dragged her out of bed an hour ago.
She just settled in her usual spot on the floor against the far wall, steaming vanilla-caramel latte in hand, when she whispers, "Ohhh, he’s back."
Huh? One arm across my chest, stretching out my shoulder, I look at her questioningly. She nods her head toward the other side of the room, and I try to subtly look over my shoulder. However, what I don’t expect is my eyes colliding with a pair of hazel ones right on the other side of the glass wall. It’s the friend of the Asian guy who winked at us the other day. Personally, I thought that was pretty sleazy. I mean, who winks these days? This guy is tall—taller than Rhys’s six-one—with light-blond, shaggy hair. His eyes are striking, even from a distance, no question there. I can’t determine if the brown or green is more dominant. It’s almost as if his eyes are changing color right in front of me—it’s captivating. This close, there is also no denying that he is in shape. Like,reallyin shape. His broad shoulders are emphasized even more by the wifebeater he’s wearing paired with gray sweats. His sweats are loose-fitting, but I can see that his lower body is just as defined as his upper body. My eyes wander back to his face, and his mouth quirks up on one side with an eyebrow raised. Heat creeps up my cheeks, and I spin around, squeezing my eyes shut.