Page 52 of Wild Card

I scowl, wondering why everyone is talking about my chakras lately. She must be indoctrinating Rhys during his classes too.

“No. She’s fine.”

West’s mouth pops open. He looks like a fucking dog with a bone right now, and I don’t like it one bit. “Like, fine or…fine?”

“Fine. Like I don’t notice her at all.”

I look back at three sets of eyes, all fixed on me. Even Ford, who usually stays out of this shit now regards me with pity.

“What?”

“Bash, old boy, you’ve got a crush,” West announces eagerly, making me wince.

I whip around and take in everyone around us, hoping upon hope that no one is listening. The small-town gossip network is fucking vicious, and I don’t want to be its latest subject.

“I do not,” I say. But it sounds unconvincing, even to me, so I add something that I am convinced of. “Plus, she dated Tripp. That’s a line you just don’t cross. Even if I saw her first.”

If I had known.

I ended it on the spot.

I tried to find you.

I’d cut her off, but I know that’s what she was about to say. I could piece it all together. I wasn’t blind to the way she looked at me. The way shelooksat me. Gaze licking over me like flames over kindling.

“Saw her first?” Rhys asks, looking confused.

I wave a hand casually. “We got stuck in an airport overnight together over a year ago.”

West gasps. “Wait, she’s that girl? Didn’t you get her number?”

My stomach drops hard and fast. I never told West that story. “How do you know that?”

“Clyde told me.”

Fucking Clyde.

I find myself wondering if it’s too late to take my kidney back when Terence—who likes to go by Too Tall and is the most universally hated guy at bowling—pops his head over to our table. “Is one of you going to take your turn? Like this year? Or are you forfeiting?”

“Fuck off, Stretch,” all three of my teammates say at once.

Rhys turns to glare at him, making a twisting motion with his hands as though he’s wringing the water out of a dishrag.

The guy leaves, but not without muttering something offensive under his breath.

Or…it wouldbe offensive if any of us cared what he thought.

“Okay, wait,” Rhys starts up. “You’re telling me that you met Gwen first? And hit it off first? Andthenshe dated your son?”

Ford hisses out a breath. “That’s so weir?—”

I correct his train of thought before he can even go there. Because I went there at first too. So now I admit to them what I haven’t even admitted to myself. “I don’t think she knew Tripp was my son, so don’t make it sound like that. And I took her number down wrong after pulling an all-nighter, so in her defense, she thought I ghosted her.”

West elbows Rhys. “See that? Falling all over himself to protect her honor.”

Rhys smirks in response, but Ford looks downright thoughtful. “That’s actually?—”

“Kind of romantic?” West guesses with amusement twinkling in his eyes.