sat on the floor outside of Collins' hotel room, and I stared down at it while trying to get my shit together.

I hated this breakfast. I hated that barely an hour ago when I'd ordered it, I was still thinking that I was going to eat this breakfast. That Collins would eat this breakfast. That we'd spend the morning in bed, and then maybe I'd convince her to spend the whole day with me.

Maybe more than a day. Maybe more than a weekend.

I knew I was the type of guy to get ahead of himself pretty quick, but come on. She hadn't been faking her interest in me. I didn't get my hopes up for no damn reason.

Picking up the breakfast, I walked down the hall before stopping in front of room 834. Bren and Madie's room, according to Collins.

I put it back down on the floor, scribbled a note on the back of a receipt I found in my pocket, knocked on the door, and walked away.

Someone should have a good morning, even if it wouldn't be me.

—

"Dude, you should probably rethink this."

Kicking my feet up onto the dash, I glared at Bren. "If you think it's such a terrible idea, then why did you agree to come with me?"

He snorted like the question was an obvious one. "Would you still be doing this even if I didn't come?"

I didn't even need to consider it. "Yeah."

"That's why I'm here," Bren said, tightening his grip on the steering wheel of his refurbished Mustang convertible. I'll never know how he'd convinced me to get in this car with him. Did I trust his mechanic skills? Absolutely not. He fixed this piece of metal up while moping around Caroline's house, and I could be damn sure where his head was at then. Not focused on car parts, I'll tell ya that much.

I grunted noncommittally, waiting for the other shoe to drop. And then it did.

"But I'll also be here for you if Collins dumps your ass when she finds out what you did," Bren added.

"She's not going to dump me," I muttered, though my stomach dropped at the thought. I wouldn't fucking survive losing that girl.

"Yeah, you're right," Bren said with a sigh. "She likes you way too much. For whatever reason." He winked at me, and I rolled my eyes. "But still, she's going to hate that you're going behind her back like this."

I bristled at the implication that Bren knew my girlfriend better than I did. "I am more than aware that she's gonna hate it. But her stubbornness about this situation is gonna get her into trouble, man."

"You're not wrong about that." Bren sighed, staring out the window at the road. We'd left the Bay Area right after my last class, around five, but we'd already been in the car for nearly an hour. Dusk brushed the skies. "I tried talking to her, you know."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "The night she stayed over. I told her that if you brought it up, she needed to promise that she'd consider letting you help."

"She didn't make that promise, did she?"

"Nope. Evaded that shit."

"Yeah, not surprised."

Bren raised a brow, his eyes snaking off the road to glance at me. "Wanna know why, though?"

"Because she's stubbornly independent?"

"No, actually. Because she's worried about what'll happen to you if you get involved."

I shook my head. "She doesn't need to protect me like that."

"Well..." Bren blew a stream of air between his lips. "You don't know the Bailey family."

"Maybe not, but I got you," I said, nudging his elbow. "And your lil gun."

Bren rolled his eyes and readjusted his grip on the steering wheel. He did have it, though, his Glock. It was tucked into his waistband, and he tugged on his sweatshirt to cover it better.

"Seriously, though," I said, dropping my voice. "Every time I bring it up, she refuses to talk about it. Wouldn't be here otherwise."

Bren pursed his lips, and I wasn't sure if his irritation was toward Collins or me, but it didn't really matter. I hated that we were here behind Collins' back more than he did. Too late for that, though. Like hell would I sit around and let these fucking assholes ruin her life like this. She shouldn't have to deal with this anymore. And I didn't mind one bit getting involved.

Bren turned off the highway, driving into the parking lot of a roadside diner. It had the vibe of a place where the locals and truckers who didn't care about ripped seat cushions came for cheap, home-style meals. I'd bet the food wasn't half bad, but we didn't pick the spot for its cuisine. We picked the Sweet Street Diner because it was unsuspecting and halfway between the Bay Area and Fresno.

Denver sat at a booth in the corner, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else. And looking like he belonged anywhere else. Fucking Emperor penguin had on that suit again. Hopefully he'd be agreeable, though, and then we could all get the hell out of here.

When I asked Bren to get me in touch with Denver, he'd grumbled about it for at least a day before finally relenting—on the condition that he came with me. And now, it was time to get this figured the hell out.

"Brought your little backup buddy, huh?"

Denver slung an arm over the back of the seat as we sat down across from him. I didn't really know if he was talking to me about Bren or Bren about me, so I stayed quiet, ignoring the intended jab.

"So which one of you is actually fucking her?" he asked, trying again to get a rise out of me. Or, based on how Bren leaned forward with his hands on the table, us. My fingers gripped my knees below the table, and I breathed through my nose.

Okay, so maybe it was working. The whole getting a rise outta me. But I wasn't gonna let him see it.

Bren cleared his throat. "For someone who has claimed for years to just be Collins' friend, you seem to be awfully concerned about her sex life lately, Bailey."

I grimaced at that, having enough awareness to realize that Denver must have brought something up at The Grounds when he'd ambushed Collins a few weeks ago. Dude tried not to look rattled at Bren's remark, but the way he adjusted in his chair and looked away told a different story.

"What do you want?" he grumbled.

I found my voice. "I want you to know what it will take for you and your family to leave my girlfriend the hell alone."

His brows rose at the word girlfriend, but it felt necessary to note that Collins was officially off-limits. She'd said Denver was never anything more than a friend, but I had my doubts, given his facial expression. And baby girl was mine.

"Look, I'm just trying to help her—"

"Bullshit, man. If you wanted to help Collins you wouldn't have put her in this goddamn situation to begin with," Bren snapped before the penguin could even finish.

Frowning, I shot Bren a look.

Dude, I got this.

He leaned back with a nod. Okay, okay, it said. My bad.

Bren was there when this all went down, though. So it was no wonder that he had some fire, some skin in the game.

"I know," Denver said, surprising me. "I made some fucked up choices. When you have a shitty family, sometimes you do shitty things." His eyes flicked over Bren's face. "I would think you'd get that, Hadaway."

"Oh, fuck off," Bren said, hissing beneath his breath as he stared back at Denver. "Having shitty parents doesn't give you free rein to be an asshole."

He threw his hands up before glancing at me, mouthing an apology. Sorry, done now.

Fair enough. If Bailey was going to take personal jabs at him, he should at least be able to defend himself.

I cleared my throat. "Leave Bren and his family out of this, man."

"He came." Denver shrugged. "He's in it."

A roll of my eyes. "Answer the question. What's it gonna take?"

Denver mulled it over, rubbing his chin dramatically. Honestly took everything in me not to punch him just for that. Big man liked to put on a show, but I wasn't the least bit entertained. Meanwhile, the waitress stopped by, taking our orders. I found it hard to be hungry right now, but we couldn't just sit here without spending money. So a burger and fries it was.

"Not really a question I can answer," he said finally.

Fuck that.

"Who can answer it, then?"

"That would be Pauline Bailey."

I scoffed. "Well, then you can run back to mommy and ask her how much money she wants to make this shit vanish. Or we can fight it out in the courts, but you should probably get a better lawyer."

I didn't really like the second option. Because the second option would mean that Collins would have to actually let me supply her with a lawyer. But it seemed that the Bailey family didn't like bad publicity. So it felt like a good thing to throw on the table as a threat.

A hoarse laugh slipped out of Denver. "We don't need your money."

"Don't you?" Bren laughed.

Goddamnit, dude. That was the cool part. I wanted to do that part. You know, when the villain thinks they've got shit, but then they don't really got shit at all, and you get to stick it to 'em? Best part.

"For an investment firm, it sure does seem like the fam's company is losing a lot of investments lately. Doesn't it, Denver?" I muttered, leaning back in my seat. "Maybe ask Pauline about that when you check to see if she'd like a little cash flow."

Denver's brows furrowed momentarily before they smoothed out, hiding his concern. He shook his head, shaking that golden mane of hair like he thought he was fucking Simba sitting on Pride Rock. I chuckled. He wished. Simba would eat his penguin ass.

"You can't afford to pay us off," Denver said, puffing out his chest.

I tapped my fingers on the table as the waitress placed my food basket in front of me. After plopping a hot fry in my mouth, I raised a brow. "Don't be so sure about that."

Denver frowned, seeming like he really wasn't sure. He deflated a bit.

"Collins is too good of a person, but I'm not," I added. "Not when it comes to shit like this. If you don't want to lose more investors when they find out what awful people you are for dragging down an innocent sixteen-year-old when in reality, it was the CEO who was drunk behind the wheel...Then I wouldn't wait to get back to me."

Denver's lips pressed together, and I hoped that meant we could settle this business sooner than later. The fire had seemed to vanish from his eyes, and for the first time, I saw a dude who simply looked lost without his dad. A bad taste formed in the back of my throat. Regret? No, I didn't regret this. But maybe a bit of remorse lingered in my bones.

"She doesn't know you're here," he said flatly.

"No, she doesn't," I admitted, lowering my voice. "And you're not going to tell her. Because you're not going to talk to her at all. If you know what's good for you, you'll leave her the fuck alone. You've caused her too much pain for one lifetime, and it ends now."

My voice broke a little bit at the end, ruining the effect I was going for. But I kept remembering the Collins I witnessed the other night in the car, shaking in her seat. The crash itself might not have been Denver's fault, but the aftermath was. And Collins had never healed from the impact of that night because Denver had never given her the space to.

That ended now. That was why I was here. That storm the other night, and how Collins had reacted, it made my decision for me. It physically pained me to see her like that, and I couldn't do nothing.

"Seriously, Bailey," Bren added, and I glanced over to see him glaring across the table. "Leave her alone for once."

Denver narrowed his eyes in return, focusing on Bren, not me. After a drawn-out stalemate, Denver pushed up from the table without another word and strode from the dinner, leaving his dinner untouched. It was just as well. Didn't want to look at his face more than I had to.

"Dude hates you," I said to Bren once the jingles of the bells on the diner door subsided, telling me Bailey was long gone.

Bren didn't respond. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, staring at the table.

"Bren?"

"I'm trying—" He grimaced, pausing. "I'm picking my words carefully, so I don't piss you off."

My stomach turned over unpleasantly.

"Just spit it out."

He sighed, and I prepared myself.

"Collins and Denver met in grade school. Accidental best friends, really. Pretty sure they just understood each other in the way that seven-year-olds do. They liked the same movies, the same games, that sort of shit. But when they got older, I think—I think the fundamentals of their upbringings began to clash. And the trauma. Denver didn't like that I understood Collins in a way he didn't. And he really didn't like that—"

Bren cut off, raking a hand through his hair, his grimace growing more pronounced.

"Denver hates you because you screwed her," I filled in for him, trying to keep the acid from my voice. It wasn't Bren's fault. It really wasn't. It wasn't anyone's fault. But I couldn't turn off the green monster in me.

"Yeah," Bren said with a loud exhale. "Yeah, pretty much. Maybe it was jealousy on his part. He also thought I was taking advantage of her when she was vulnerable, though. But I—"

He snapped his mouth shut.

"Finish the sentence, Bren," I said through gritted teeth, wanting for it to be out there and over with.

"All I was going to say was that maybe Denver was right in a way. But I think we both took advantage of each other. It was a mutual distraction," he said with a shrug.

"Makes sense," I said with a sigh of my own.

"Sorry, man," he added with a nervous laugh.

And because I couldn't help it, I laughed, too. "I promise I'll be chill about it one day. But that day just isn't here yet."

"It's cool. I wouldn't be chill either if the roles were reversed." Bren glanced over at me, smiling cheekily. "Grayson threatened to punch me once. Would that help?"

I pretended to consider it. "Maybe."

"Okay, Beau." He picked up his cheeseburger. "Just let me finish dinner first."

"Deal," I said, knowing full well that I would never throw that punch.

✨

oop thoughts on what Beau did?

😅😅😅

xoxo amelie