Page 7 of Before You (Reckless Love #2)

I hum in response, not really having the words right now to explain what’s going through my head.

“Not that I’m not happy to gush about how much I love my boyfriend, but I’m assuming there’s a reason you’re asking?” Mirabelle hedges, and I exhale a shuddering breath, adjusting the ice packs on my knee bringing little relief as I recline on my bed.

“I found Marley.”

Mirabelle’s excited gasp is pure joy. “No fucking way! How the hell did you pull that off? Was it a big romantic reunion? You at least got her full name this time so I can properly stalk her on social media to make sure she doesn’t leave you hanging for another three years, right?”

“Two years and five months,” I correct, as if knowing the specifics off the top of my head makes this any less pathetic than it already is.

How could I not know? I’ve been writing Marley letters since the day I met her, but I never thought I’d have a chance .

. . actually, that’s a bad idea. I shouldn’t give her those letters.

They’re the only place I’ve been honest.

“Whatever, get on with the story. I want to hear how you told her you’ve been looking for her for twenty-nine months. Did you kiss her? Please tell me you kissed her.”

“She’s with Trent.”

Mirabelle falls silent, and then she laughs. “Oh, like she’s his sister? For a second, I thought you meant they’re like together together .”

“Because they are.” The words are acid in my mouth. “Marley is the girl he’s cheating on.”

I hate this, and not for myself. I hate it for Marley. She deserves so much fucking better than Trent, and I’m not saying it has to be me, but I’d give up everything for it to be me.

“JJ . . .”

“It fucking sucks,” I admit, laughing bitterly, and there’s a long pause between us.

“I’m so sorry. I know this has probably been on your mind since seeing her, but what are you going to do?” she asks.

“I don’t know. She asked to be friends, so of course I said yes. I just feel like if I’m the one to tell her about Trent, Marley will think I’m only telling her so she’ll be with me. It’s not like I have any proof.”

“You have a point there. What if I message her on social media, and tell her myself as a concerned third party? Then it’s not you technically telling her. Hang on, I’m putting you on speaker,” Mirabelle says. “What’s her last name? I bet I can find her on social media.”

“Benson. Her name is Marley Benson,” I say. “Sorry for waking you guys up.”

“It’s fine, JJ. Happy to help,” Henry grumbles, and I can hear the tapping on the screen from Mirabelle’s fingernails.

“Are you sure that’s her name? The only Marley Benson popping up is the daughter of this ballerina and billionaire, but that doesn’t make sense?”

“Yeah, um . . . that’s her,” I clarify.

“Shut the fucking front door. The girl you’re in love with is a Benson? Do you know how much fucking money they have?”

“Do you know how much fucking money the two of us have?” Henry asks, and I swallow back my laughter.

“No, Henry. You don’t understand. Yes, we have a crap ton of money, but they have billions with a capital B . They’re one of the richest families in the world,” Mirabelle says, her voice filled with awe. “Damn, JJ. Her dad is hot. At least you know she’ll age well.”

Henry scoffs, clearly not amused. “In case you forgot, your very hot, and real boyfriend is right here. Tell JJ your all-knowing girl wisdom so we can go back to bed.”

“I’m following her,” Mirabelle says, and I sit up too fast, pulling my knee the wrong direction, a groan slipping through my clenched teeth. Shit, goddamnit, motherfucker.

“Don’t,” I croak out, my voice contorted with pain I can’t hide.

“What just happened?”

“It’s nothing. I pushed myself too hard today, and my knee isn’t happy with me. I’ll be fine,” I insist, breathing through the pain slowly subsiding.

“ JJ ,” she scolds immediately.

“What?” I ask, dragging a hand over my face.

“Were you wearing your brace?”

Do I try to lie? No, she’d hear the truth through it. “No,” I admit. “I will tomorrow.”

“JJ, seriously?” Mirabelle chides, sounding an awful lot like our mother.

“It slows me down,” I complain. “I’ll wear it tomorrow.”

“Listen to your body if it’s telling you to stop. You’re only hurting yourself if you don’t,” she warns, and I know she’s right, but I’ve already heard this lecture tonight. “As for the thing with Marley, I don’t know what the right thing to do is. What do you think, Henry?”

“What do I think about what?” he asks, yawning.

“If I were dating Wilson, and he was cheating on me, would you tell me, or let me find out on my own?”

“Fuck that, you’re not dating Wilson.”

“Henry, it’s a hypothetical question.”

“No. There isn’t a universe where we’re not together, and I’d rather die than cheat on you, so I’m not even going to entertain the stupid hypothetical question,” he says, and Mirabelle laughs.

Awesome, this has been so helpful.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. JJ, he’s getting grumpy, but we can try to figure this out tomorrow. Try to get some sleep, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too,” I say, hanging up. I double check the volume on my ringer in case tonight is the night Bailey calls, it’s loud enough to pull me from even the deepest sleep.

I don’t fall asleep for a long while, spending hours staring at the ceiling as I wait for the darkness to drag me under.