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“So Tuesday ... they still want you there at six a.m. for surgery? Pick you up at five thirty?”

“If you can still swing it.”

She tugs her T-shirt up her shoulder, hiding her bra strap. “Of course.”

“You talked to your boss?”

“Yup,” she says a little too quickly.

I watch her, waiting. There’s obviously more to it.

“Yes, okay? I talked to him.” Then, seeing my expression, she adds, “In my head.”

“Ruby!”

“I have it all rehearsed, don’t worry. It’ll work out.”

I roll my eyes. I shouldn’t have accepted her offer to take care of me. “You don’t need to do this if it’s too much.”

“It’s not too much! I can handle this, Lorenzo, all right? Let me do it without checking in on my progress every step of the way.”

I throw up my hands. “Fine.” We exchange a brief glare, then lapse into silence, mine a guilty one. I didn’t mean to imply she can’t handle caring for me. I look at her to see whether she’s still mad, but her expression is calm as she watches the people in the yard. Then I catch the unmistakable way her eyes flare with interest when her gaze lands on Brad.

“Your boy really fucked up back there,” I find myself saying.

Her eyes are back on me, brows drawn together. “Huh?”

“Knocking you down the steps? Ring any bells?”

“It was an accident, Lorenzo,” she huffs. “And like you’ve never gotten a little too drunk?”

“Did I ever hurt you when I got a little too drunk?”

She laughs. “I’m not hurt!”

“Yeah. Tell that to the blood dripping down your leg.”

She looks down at her bare legs. A tiny line of bright-red blood trickles from her knee down her calf. There’s a beat of silence, and I can sense her surprise. But when she looks up at me, her expression shows only irritation. “You’re right, I should probably call an ambulance for this one. Might even need a blood transfusion. I just hope someone here is my type.”

“You could do better, Ruby. That’s all I’m saying.”

“No, that’s not all you’re saying.”

I swallow as something hot and uncomfortable surfaces inside me again. “Then what am I saying?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.” She glances over at Brad, who’s leaning unsteadily against the drink table, then lowers her voice. “You’ve never been an asshole before when I dated guys you didn’t like. I don’t know what your problem is all of a sudden.” Her chestnut-brown eyes lock on mine, blazing with intensity and demanding an answer to the question she didn’t ask.

I have to look away. I know why I’ve been acting this way: I’m jealous. Completely jealous. So much that it makes every muscle in my body lock up tight. Of the way she looks at Brad, of the way she touches him, of how happy she is just to be in the same room with some douchebag who doesn’t even know how out of his league she is. I can’t stand being the second-most-important guy in the room to her. All I have to do is tell her.

“Ruby.” When I say her name, she leans closer a tiny, almost-imperceptible bit, like maybe she knows what I’m about to say and doesn’t want to miss it. But the words die in my throat. What am I even trying to accomplish? Ruining things for her? She’sbeen so happy all night—happy with him. And I’m mad at her for it.

I’m an asshole.

“Never mind.”

She stares at me, ready to hang on every word.

“I’m sorry.” I watch her eyes soften as guilt courses through me. I could easily get Brad out of her life if I really wanted to; that’s how much power I have. And I do, but I can’t do that to her. I blew my chance with Ruby a long time ago, and I can’t ruin this thing with Brad just because every time I see them together, regret cuts through me so sharply I want to punch him. That shouldn’t be her problem.