Page 11 of Truly

“It never is.”

I sigh heavily and look at the ceiling. “I mean it.”

“You always do.”

Asshole. “Look, I’m calling you because?—”

“Because Mallet won’t answer,” he says.

I start to protest, but that’s true. Mallet won’t answer. He blocked me after I sent him too many texts late at nightbecause apparently training for a big professional fight is more important than humoring your little brother.

“And Chase might answer,” Gavin says, “but he’ll make you regret it.”

Can’t argue that one either.

“You could call Kate,” he says. But no one calls Kate witha situationunless you want it blown out of proportion and given the most expensive, over-the-top, time-consuming solution known to man. “Even you aren’t that desperate.”

I suck a breath between my teeth. “I don’t know. I might be.”

“Good. Call her, then.”

“Gavin, stop being a fuckhead. I need your help.”

He groans to ensure I don’t get comfortable calling him for help. Gavin is unequivocally my best friend, but the guy has weaknesses like everybody. He’s a great problem solver and is totally a people person. He just doesn’t like to bemyproblem solver or involve himself withmypeople issues.

Tough luck this time, sucker.

“I’m going to give you three guesses as to who is in my house right now,” I say, swallowing past the lump in my throat.

“Is this one of those things I’m supposed to get in three guesses, or are you just wasting my time?”

“I could give you fifty guesses, and you still won’t get it.”

“You’re wasting my time. Got it.”

I roll my eyes. “When people say you have three guesses, they don’t actually mean it. You realize that, right? It’s a rhetorical question.”

“That’s not what rhetorical means.”

“Uh, yes, it is. The question is being asked for effect, not for an answer.”

He snickers. “Okay, boy genius. Do you realize that the way you phrased it wasn’t a question? It’s a rhetorical statement,maybe. But it is not a rhetorical question because there’s no damn question.”

I groan, my irritation growing fast and wild.

“All right. I’m done. What’s going on this time? Who is in your bedroom?” he asks. “And if you say Alyssa after all the shit that went down?—”

“It’s not Alyssa. I haven’t talked to Alyssa in six months.”

“Thank God. She’s a nice girl and whatever, but the two of you are just not supposed to be together, Luke. We’ve all tried to tell you. I know you’ve felt bad breaking things off with her in the past, but I hope for your sake that you mean it when you say you haven’t talked to her in six?—”

“Laina Kelley is in my house.”

The words shoot from my mouth so abruptly, so powerfully, that I flinch.

“Stop playing with me, Luke, you prick. I have shit to do today.”

“I’m not kidding, Gav.”