Speaking of hurting, my head was starting to throb. After a moment, I held out my hand. “Give me your phone.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Thorn . . .”
With a curse, he pulled out his cell and tossed it in the air. I caught it with both hands and pressed the home button to light up the screen.
Fifteen new messages.
All from different girls.
“This”—I pointed at the screen—“this hurts.”
“Avery, I haven’t even responded.”
“I want you to choose me not because I’m pressuring you to, because I know you’ll resent me for that. I want you to throw this life away because you want to. And right now you don’t. You think you do, but it’s a comfort, having someone on the side, just in case. I can’t wait at home, knowing that one day you’re going to smell like another woman’s perfume. I want all of you, not a day, not five days—I want forever.”
I chucked his phone at his head and walked out of the room.
And right into World War III in the living room to witness a screaming Austin holding Brooke in an impressive headlock. Grandpa Lewis was clapping his hands like they were doing some sort of country jig, and my mom was trying to pry Brooke and Austin apart while Thatch stood nearby, looking guilty and extremely sad, which made no sense at all.
I stomped over to him, shoved his ripped chest, and shouted, “What the hell did you do?”
“Nothing, I—”
Austin released Brooke. “NOTHING?”
He had the good sense to backpedal. “Austin, we aren’t exclusive—we talked about this. We—”
In tears, she slapped him so hard across the cheek that my own face stung.
Thatch cursed and grabbed his cheek. “What the hell!” he roared. “Austin, we discussed this!”
“ONE WEEK AGO!” she yelled. “And I said I wanted more and you said okay!”
“How the hell does that translate into exclusive?” He dropped his hand. “Because when you said you wanted more, I took more time off so I could be with you—and you seemed happy.” He reached for her. “Aren’t you happy?”
“Yes.” She wiped her tears. “I’m so thrilled. Just jumping for joy that I discovered that witch with her tongue down your throat!”
Brooke flushed bright red.
How the hell had she moved that fast with Thatch? Did she always set up men? And where was Kayla?
I seriously wanted to strangle my sister with my bare hands, and probably would have had Lucas not appeared just then in the living room.
I couldn’t face him.
Not now.
And probably not tomorrow.
I breezed past him and whispered, “I’m quitting the internship.”
Chapter Forty-Three
LUCAS
Things calmed down once Avery and Austin left, but it took a few bottles of wine for everyone to forget that I was mysteriously without Avery, the girl I had walked in with.
The one I was supposedly marrying.
I made excuses for her.
I lied to everyone about this mysterious illness that also made it look like she’d been crying.
I did what I did best: I Lucas Thorned everyone. And I hated that everyone believed me, that I was so damn good at lying and making people want my lies to be true that I wasn’t even nervous about it. I could literally justify any lie.
And make myself and everyone around me believe it was the truth.
It was the first time in my life I believed what Avery had always said. I was the devil himself.
And I was too proud to go after the one girl who could give me salvation, save me from myself, from the depths of hell.
I grimaced and tipped back a bottle of beer.
Thatch had pursued Austin, but I knew it was already too late.
He’d screwed up.
I knew he would—but I wanted things to be different for them, because Austin deserved a happy ending.
Even if she wasn’t exactly my favorite person.
“She’s not sick, is she?” Kayla’s voice interrupted my morose thoughts. I set the beer bottle down and started to stand. “Wait, sit.”
With a curse, I plopped back down on the chair and looked out at the giant oak tree that Avery had fallen out of when she was a kid. At least it was quiet outside—until now. “I really don’t want to talk, Kayla, not now, not like this.”
“She hides her sadness well.” Kayla took the seat next to me. “I helped Brooke—I was supposed to distract Thatch and get him to leave the room.”
“What?” I hissed as betrayal washed over me. “Why the hell would you help Brooke? You know she’s insane. She’s always been jealous of you and, apparently, now Avery.”
“She’s hurting.” Kayla sighed. “And since I was hurting . . . We’re all capable of making bad choices. My bad choice was made when I came home after seeing you and Avery together and cried myself to sleep.” I winced. “Brooke came into my room and told me about your, um, calendar. Apparently, she and Molly work out at the same gym, and one thing led to another—then suddenly Brooke made the connection.”
“Son of a bitch.” I clenched my fists.
“I was so angry at you, angry at Avery for lying, and then Brooke planted the thought in my head that you didn’t really love Avery—and maybe you still loved me, I just needed a chance to prove it.” She let out a bitter laugh. “And look how that turned out? I look like a hooker, Brooke naturally betrayed my trust and wanted you for herself—and wonder of all wonders, you really do love Avery.”
“That dress really is horrible, Kayla. I say that as a friend. You should burn it. You almost flashed Grandpa Lewis twice.”
Her chuckle was low, familiar. Years ago I lived for it. Funny how we were able to sit together like we were friends again.
But the mess with Avery?
I cursed again.
“You love her.”
“I do.”
“You know, Lucas, I wish I could hate you.”
“If I had a penny for every time I had a woman tell me that”—I stared down at my shoes—“I’d be a very rich man.”
“That’s a compliment, you know, the fact that you can roll through life like a complete asshole, yet women still want to like you.”
“I should make a profession out of it.” I sank down into my chair. My heart was so damn annoying—it hurt like hell. How could an organ hurt? It did. And it sucked.
“Start at the beginning,” Kayla whispered.
“She works”—I caught myself—“she worked for me.”
“Not that beginning.”
My self-confidence cracked as I looked at the oak tree and let old memories take over. “It was her hair.”
“Her hair?” Kayla repeated.
“I loved her hair. When she got back from summer camp, she had just turned seventeen, and it had been a few months since I’d seen her. I was just getting ready to start my first real job, you’d already left for grad school, and she knocked on my door, begging me for waffle mix.”