Page 9 of A Little Crush (The Little Things #6)

Rory’s gaze stays glued to the ground as she follows the procession, so I do the same, hating how forced it feels.

Without a word, I raise my arm for Rory to take just like before.

Her touch is light as a feather. Hell, I might as well be guiding a ghost. But it’s the familiar silence that kills me, making me feel like I’ve lost my ever loving mind as I guide her back down the aisle.

“Lovely. Yes, lovely,” the wedding coordinator croons from the back.

“Everyone did amazing. Any questions before we wrap up?” She barely waits a second.

“Perfect. I told you this would be relatively painless. There’s a light dinner set up in the main building as a thank you for coming, and we’ll see everyone on Saturday at 2:00 p.m.”

As everyone disperses, Dodger pushes to his feet and tugs Rory from my grasp like I’m not even here.

“Look at you, stealing the show,” he quips, pulling her into another hug until her feet are off the ground and her soft laugh filters through the air.

My brows wrinkle as I step away, giving them space to…do whatever the hell they’re doing. But seriously? Who does this guy think he is? And why is everyone okay with him putting his hands on her?

“Hey, man.” Maverick’s voice distracts me from the view of his little sister spinning around in a rockstar’s arms. “You good?”

“Yeah.” I tear my attention from Rory and tuck my hands into the front pockets of my slacks. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?” he prods. “You look?—”

Distracted, I interrupt, “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, for sure.”

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it.

“What’s up with Rory and Dodger?”

Looking over my shoulder, Mav takes in his little sister standing next to a fucking rockstar who’s probably twice her age with the sun framing their silhouettes like they’re the stars in some sappy rom-com. Oblivious, Mav shrugs. “No idea. Why?”

“Are they seeing each other?”

“No idea,” he repeats. “Rory either doesn’t have relationships or keeps them close to the chest, I’m not sure which.”

Keeps them close to the chest? That’s it?

That’s all he has to say? No offense, but Maverick’s a terrible big brother if he’s really this clueless when it comes to Rory’s dating life.

Actually, he’s an excellent big brother, and I get that he’s getting married and shit, but seriously?

The rockstar’s practically twice her age.

Okay, that might be a bit of a stretch. Or is it?

Hell, if I know, but I sure as shit am about to find out.

“So you’re okay with it?” I challenge, trying not to sound like an interrogator, though I doubt I’m successful .

Giving me a weird look, Mav retorts, “Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?”

“She’s your little sister.”

“So?” Mav laughs. “Rory’s a big girl.”

“Yeah, but Dodger’s, what? Fifteen years older than she is?”

Hesitating, Maverick glances at Rory next to Dodger again and scratches his jaw. “Something like that.”

“And you’re good with it?” I push.

This doesn’t bother him? Should it? Or is my conversation with Rory muddying the waters and fucking with my mind, leaving me less than unbiased after everything we’ve been through?

The last time we spoke, she apologized for falling for a guy older than her.

Hell, she even accused me of looking at her like she’s nothing but a kid I used to babysit.

But hooking up with a rockstar is appropriate?

A rockstar who’s older than I am? What the fuck?

I had my assumptions after the pool party, but a hug like that?

And the way she can’t stop smiling at him? It’s bullshit.

“Yeah,” Mav grunts, lifting a shoulder in a half-assed shrug as he turns back to me. “I guess I am good with it.”

“Why?”

Another laugh rumbles out of him. “Why not? She’s over twenty-one and Dodger’s a good guy.”

I glance at Rory chatting with Dodger and the way her eyes crinkle in the corners.

She looks…happy, and damn if it isn’t fucking with my head.

The girl can’t even look at me, but she can smile at him like that?

Something sharp digs against my ribcage, but I fight the urge to rub it away and clench my hands instead.

“If I’ve learned anything from this life, it’s that you fall for who you fall for, you know?” Mav continues. “If we had any say in it, do you really think I would’ve fucked over Archer the way I did? ”

I pull back, distracted by his candor. Because yeah.

Falling for your twin’s girlfriend is kind of a shit thing to do, isn’t it?

Add in Archer’s death, and I’m pretty sure Mav could be painted as the villain in any retelling of his love story with Ophelia.

He’s spent years in therapy to let go of the staggering guilt of how things played out between him, Lia, and Archer.

Clearly, it’s worked, and I envy him for it.

My focus shifts to Rory again, taking in her silky peach dress, light makeup, and soft blonde hair.

She curled it today. It looks nice. She’s beautiful, objectively speaking, of course.

I swallow back the knot in my throat. The same easy smile plays at the edge of her mouth as she peeks up at Dodger, attentively hanging onto his every word.

And it’s strange. Because even though it’s been years, I’m pretty sure she used to look at me that way. With awe.

I don’t like it.

And he sure as shit doesn’t deserve it. Not that I ever did, either, but this isn’t about me.

What if he hurts her? He’s a rockstar, for fuck’s sake.

A rockstar who couldn’t even scrounge up a suit for the dress rehearsal.

Instead, he’s in a pair of ripped jeans and a T-shirt.

How is no one else worried about this connection?

Or maybe I’m projecting after my own relationship fell apart.

Maybe not everyone’s a cheater. Or maybe I’m right, and Rory will be hurt.

None of the possibilities make me feel any better.

None of them are in my control, either. That’s why I’m frustrated.

Because I don’t want her to get hurt, is all. It’s completely logical.

“Still protective of Squeaks, huh?” Maverick asks with a laugh. “Guess it’s hard to turn off, even after all these years.”

Dodger spins Rory around again, complimenting her dress as a blush hits her cheeks.

“I’m gonna get some more fresh air,” I decide. Clapping Mav on the shoulder, I motion around the decorated space, adding, “Happy for you. This is gonna be epic. ”

“Thanks, man.” He looks around the area and smiles, his expression clouding with pride and admiration. “Lia did a great job.”

“Yeah, she did. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Sounds good. Don’t forget to grab some dinner inside.”

“I will,” I lie and make my way around the side of the grassy area instead of heading inside with the majority of the group.

Call me an ass, but I’m not in the mood to face all the familiar faces I know are scattered inside the giant reception area.

It’s not that I don’t want to see anyone.

I just…really don’t want to see anyone. The Buchanans rented out the entire country club, and thankfully, the place is big enough to find some quiet, so I stay outside, hoping if I spend enough time out here, the fresh air will clear my mind.

Mufasa lounges on the trimmed grass beneath a tree, and I veer toward him, not even the slightest bit surprised he’s here. Besides, I’m anxious for a distraction. A compadre. I dunno. Something to help ease the tightness in my chest.

When the dog lifts its head, I stop short.

His dark chocolate eyes pin me in place as I stare back, curious to whom he belongs. His eyes are further apart than Fasa’s, and his nose is a little shorter.

“You’re not Fasa,” I mutter.

He studies me the same way I study him. As if he’s sizing me up.

I keep my feet planted but shift my attention to the fresh-cut grass in an attempt to look less intimidating.

I must pass his test because seconds later, he lays his head back on the green lawn.

Slowly, I approach him and squat down, offering him a closed fist as an introduction.

He lifts his head again, sniffs me, licks my knuckles, and nuzzles against my hand.

Satisfied I’m not gonna lose a finger, I say, “Hello to you, too, buddy.” I scratch the side of his head, then reach for his collar and read the tag.

Hades. “Hades, huh?” The dog grunts in response.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Jax.” I shift my attention to his chocolate brown chin, rubbing gently.

“You’re Rory’s dog, aren’t you?” I decide.

“Yeah, I bet you are.” I plop down beside him and stretch out my legs beneath the tall oak tree.

“How’s she doing?” I prod. Relaxing again, the dog rests his head in my lap.

“You keeping a close eye on her?” His long sigh makes me smirk.

“Yeah, I get it. Not always an easy job, am I right?” Patting his side, I smooth out the brown and black fur.

It’s soft and clean, proving he had a bath recently.

My fingers thread through the thick coat, and I tug gently.

It’s thicker than Fasa’s. He’s a little meatier, too.

I bet Rory spoils the shit out of him. “I’m glad you’re looking out for her,” I admit.

And I am. The way things ended never sat well with me, and even though Rory and I have hashed it out since she’s been home, it doesn’t ease the guilt from our initial fallout.

All the time we missed. It makes me curious, too.

What she’s been up to. Who she’s been with.

How long she’s been seeing Dodger. “So tell me,” I mutter.

“What do we think of that guy? Dodger?” The dog lets out another grunt, nuzzling into my thigh.

“That bad, huh? Yeah.” I sigh, grateful at least someone feels the same way I do. “Figured as much?—”

“What are you doing?” a feminine voice snaps.

Looking up, I find Rory marching toward me with a glare that could curdle milk. It isn’t directed at me, though. No, she’s glaring at her dog like he just got caught with his head in the garbage can or something.

“Is there a…problem?” I ask.

When she reaches us on the grass, she folds her arms. “Why are you touching my dog?”

Huh? This is what she’s mad about?

My eyes widen as I take in the animosity in her voice. “I’m sorry?” I frown. “Am I not allowed to touch your dog?”

“That’s not the point,” she huffs. “You didn’t know he was mine, and going around touching random dogs is like, super stupid, Jax. What were you thinking?”

“I assumed he was Fasa until I got closer,” I explain, defending myself. “Then, he asked if he could have a good scratch, and who was I to tell him no, you know?”

Her mouth twitches…barely. But it’s enough to give me a glimpse of the less pissed version of herself I’m used to.

She doesn’t cave entirely, though. Instead, she pins Hades with her stare again.

It’s like she still can’t decide whether or not he deserves to stay in the doghouse for not attacking me.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask permission before petting him,” I add carefully. “It’s not his fault. It’s mine.”

Uncrossing her arms, she laces her fingers in front of her and lets out a sigh. “Thanks for taking the fall.”

“Anytime.”

“I’m sorry I snapped,” she adds. “It’s just…Hades doesn’t usually like people other than me, so I was a little surprised he let you touch him. That’s all.”

I glance down at my lap where Hades is still resting. “He seems to like me fine.”

Eyes narrowing, she scrutinizes her dog like he’s been swapped with an alien. “Surprisingly.”

My brows hitch. “It’s surprising that he likes me?”

“Not like that.” She peeks up at me again.

“It’s just…he kind of failed out of service dog school, and like I said, he doesn’t usually like people in general, but especially guys, which has actually been kind of categorized in the plus column, now that I think about it.

Then again, you’re Jaxon Thorne. I should’ve known he’d love you.

You’re a good guy, not some sleazy, random…

” Her lips press into a thin line. “Come on, Hades.” She turns around, not bothering to see if Hades follows.

Before he has a chance to clamor to his feet, I place my hand on Hades’ side and call, “Wait.” I don’t know why. I shouldn’t. She clearly wants nothing to do with me, but the cold shoulder? The awkward tension? Fuck me, it’s messing with me, and I don’t like it.

When she turns to face me, she tilts her head as if to say, “What do you want?” though she doesn’t bother verbalizing shit. Now that I have her full attention again, I’m not sure what to do with it.

“It’s, uh, it’s interesting you went with a German Shepherd again. Did you get him from the same breeder as Kovu and Mufasa?”

She pauses, suspicious. “Why?”

“Just trying to make conversation, I guess,” I ramble, determined to lower the walls she’s clearly erected since…fuck, it feels like forever. I pat the dog’s side one more time. “I see you stuck with the Disney trend,” I continue. “I saw Hades’ name on his tag. It fits him.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m really sorry about Kovu, too,” I continue. “I know I never got to tell you, but…he was the best.”

Her eyes well with tears before she sniffs and wipes under her nose. “Yeah. He really…he really was, wasn’t he?”

Sensing her unease, Hades stands, trots toward her, and presses his side against her outer thigh in a show of camaraderie.

Rolling her watery eyes, she bends at her side and scratches his head, muttering, “Traitor.”

“What was that?” I ask.

“Nothing.” She sneaks another peek at me. “I really should get back. Come on, Hades.”

“He can stay out here with me,” I offer. “Unless it would make him a traitor.”

Her unreadable gaze cuts to me again. “I’ll see you around, Jax.”

Turning on her heel, she walks off without another word.

All right, then.