Still Jaded (Jaded #2)

I lifted my hand in the air, and he caught it. He held it against his chest. "Did you?"

"No." But I watched intently. I saw the relief flare in his eyes, but I knew he didn't believe me. He knew something had happened, but it wasn't what he thought.

"Okay." Bryce nodded and patted my hand. He stood from my bed and grabbed his sweatshirt. He studied me as he put it on. "Are you going to be okay? I'm going to head out for a little bit. I have practice."

I nodded. I gave up. Even now, I knew he lied to me. He had ignored his phone, but I saw the alert flashing through his pocket. And who else would've been calling or texting? His agent. Mathi-my-ass needed to spin my latest incident.

He kissed me on the forehead. "I love you. We'll figure everything out. I promise."

I drew in a ragged breath when he left. After I had composed myself, I grabbed my purse from the floor and nabbed my phone. I hit the speed dial for Corrigan.

"Yo…"

I heard the caution in his voice.

It didn't feel good. "Can you lean on Grace? I think she saw something at the party."

There was silence on his end, and I knew why. He wanted to ask about Bryce, but he didn't. "What do you mean?"

"She was acting weird when Officer Sheila questioned me. I think she saw who pushed me."

"If she did, why wouldn't she just say something?"

"That's what I want you to figure out." Oh so smart one. "Can't you schmooze her?"

"Sheldon." He got quiet. "It's weird with us. I think she's in love with me."

"Exactly." A day ago I would've cared. I would never have used her feelings against her, but I didn't care anymore. She knew something, and she wasn't saying. That pissed me off. I wanted to know what she was hiding.

"Okay." Corrigan surrendered. "How did things go when I left?"

A wall slammed over me. "Next time stick around and ask yourself."

I hung up on him. Maybe I shouldn't have, but how dare he? How dare both of them? Both of them wanted something from me, but neither of them wanted to deal with their dirty laundry. They wanted me to air it all out and clean up the mess.

"The bruises make you look hot." Denton Steele whistled from the doorway. He leaned a shoulder against it. He looked good: trim waist, broad shoulders, and lean build. His green eyes sparkled at me from above movie-making cheekbones. His hair was rumpled like he'd just made love. I snorted, he actually might've.

"Tell me how bad it really is?" I gestured to my face. "Am I a domestic abuse victim?"

The corner of those luscious lips curved up. His eyes twinkled as his dimples appeared next. "You've looked better, but you still look hot." He chuckled. "I was in the area. One of the physicians sent me a text. She knows I used to keep tabs on you from before."

As international heartthrobs went, Denton Steele was in the top tier. He'd become a successful movie actor when we were in high school, but not long ago he'd graduated to the top of global stardom. Growing up as his neighbor and a few years younger than him, I might've embellished a couple of our rendezvous on purpose. I liked to make some of the girls jealous and they had been. One even attacked me. However, things went sour with him when Bryce and I got more serious. Then there was the whole thing with his sister.

"How's Mena?"

The cockiness vanished. He straightened from the doorway. "She's better. She's in a group home now."

"Is she happy?"

Not long ago, I could've asked her that question until she was pushed away by Bryce and Corrigan. Our friendship had taken a downward spiral, but I still cared. I would always have a soft spot for her.

"She is." Remorse flashed over the heartthrob's face. If anyone ever questioned Denton's love for his little sister, they'd look like a fool. He always went above and beyond for Mena, even threatening me to stay away because my life was too dangerous for her. He'd been right, but I hadn't understood why until I learned she wasn't mentally stable. "She's seeing someone. We're making plans for her to move into her own apartment. She's going to stay in the New York area. She likes the artsy atmosphere there."

I nodded, relieved for her. A part of me felt guilty, like I had caused her to relapse. I knew I'd been part of the reason but not all of it.

"And you?" He moved into the room and closed the door. As he sat in the chair Grace had abandoned, he cupped my face. His thumb brushed over some of the bruises. "You look like you got run over by a car."

"Not quite. Shoved into a glass table." I caught his hand and placed it in his lap. He couldn't touch me, not anymore.

His grin widened, but he leaned back in the chair. "So you and the soccer stud still going strong."

"I love him. I always have."