“Nolan!” Emmaline lifted her voice. “Stop! It’s not like that.”
Nolan laughed harshly. Ugly anger sizzled through him. “Really, Emmaline? I thought you were smarter than that. You think you’re the one for him? Beau has never had a girlfriend. There’s a reason for that. The guy doesn’t commit. He’s all about getting laid.”
Emmaline’s face burned red. “It’s not like that. Beau and I are . . .” Her gaze slid to Beau and the uncertainty surfaced. It was written all over her face. She blinked several times, as though she had something in her eyes.
Seeing her doubt only angered him more. What kind of lies and promises had Beau told her? She shouldn’t look that way.
Nolan wanted to think Beau would never use Emmaline like he did other girls, but then five minutes ago he would have sworn Beau would have never climbed into bed with her in the first place.
Nolan didn’t know anything anymore.
He was in deep over a girl who didn’t want anything to do with him. He didn’t know his own best friend. He didn’t know his own sister. He didn’t even know himself. Not his own heart.
“Get out of my house.” He grabbed Beau by the shirt and flung him in the direction of the bedroom door, ready to haul him out if need be. Ready to vent all his anger, all his disappointment, on him.
His sister hopped up from the bed, wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt, and the sight only added to his foul temper.
“You don’t get to do that, Nolan!” She planted her fists on her hips. “This is my home, too. You’re not the only one who lives here!”
Beau shook his head. “I’ll just go.”
“Yeah. Great idea,” Nolan said bitterly. “Go. Leave. Don’t ever come back. Don’t ever think you will be welcome here again.”
“Nolan!” That horrified look was back on Emmaline’s face.
He shook his head. He wouldn’t be swayed by it. It didn’t affect him. Everything he felt ran too deep. This was a betrayal he would never forgive.
Beau’s face was all grim acceptance. He was smart enough to not even attempt to defend himself. His actions were indefensible.
Beau moved slowly toward the door, stopping for a moment and turning to look back at Emmaline. “I’m sorry—”
“You don’t get to speak to her. Not even to apologize.” He grabbed Beau and pushed him toward the door again.
“Stop it!” Emmaline cried, latching onto his arm.
Beau’s face contorted and he twisted around and knocked Nolan’s hands off him, severing the contact.
From there, everything just spun out, happening too quickly to track.
Nolan didn’t know who moved next, or who pushed who, but suddenly Emmaline was on the floor and he and Beau were locked together, struggling, grunting, flailing around the room like a pair of gladiators hungry for a kill.
They collided into the dresser, knocking over several of his sister’s knickknacks. He managed to land a punch in Beau’s side before they twisted around and banged into the wall. One of Emmaline’s shelves collapsed, raining books over them.
Beau took advantage of the distraction and sent his fist crashing into Nolan’s face.
Nolan returned the favor with a shout, releasing all his anger on his former best friend and plowing his fist into his face with a satisfying whack.
He was dimly aware of Emmaline screaming, and the arrival of his mother, shouting and wedging herself between them.
Then they were apart. He took another swipe for Beau.
“Enough!” his mother shouted.
He stilled, his chest rising and falling with hard breaths. Blood trickled hotly down his face and he wiped the back of his hand against it.
Beau stared back at him, wild-eyed, the skin around his left eye quickly reddening and swelling.
He heard crying. Nolan’s gaze shot around the room, taking in his mother’s shocked expression.
And there was Emmaline—sobbing, sliding down the wall until she was a crumpled ball on the carpet. She tucked her legs inside her oversized shirt and sat there, rocking back and forth as tears ravaged her face.
“I think you should leave, Beau,” Mom commanded. One look at her face told Nolan she had correctly assessed the situation. She had grasped the basic gist of what happened. Once you got an eyeful of Emmaline it wasn’t hard to figure out.
Nodding, Beau turned and left.
Lesson #30
Know where you stand with someone before you hook up. It will save you drama later.
x Hayden x
Hayden couldn’t shake her sense of regret. It felt as dark and bottomless as an abyss, sucking her down inside its unknown depths.
She let it pull her under, escaping through sleep. Regret couldn’t follow her there. She knew it was unhealthy. Problems had to be faced. Eventually. She knew she couldn’t sleep forever, but for the time being, staying holed up in her room the rest of the weekend was her form of self-care. Curled up on her bed, the door locked, a barrier between her and the world outside, was the height of comfort.
She didn’t usually do regret. Regret was for people who didn’t know their own minds. Neither one of those things was her.
At least that was what she had always told herself. She’d believed she was too strong for that.
She was not like her mother, who complained incessantly, about how much life had wronged her, how life dumped on her every time something bad happened, which was all the time.
Hayden had always known herself. Known what she wanted in life. Known what she did not want. That was her gift: self-awareness. As soon as she graduated from high school, she would be out of her house, out of this town. She would be gone and never look back.
She fumbled for her phone in the gloom of her room and called in sick for work, something she never did. But the last thing she wanted to do was serve frozen yogurt to the after-church crowd. That wouldn’t be good for her soul at all. All those happy families dressed in their Sunday best, coming in on a spiritual high, had a way of making her feel . . . less. It always succeeded in reminding her of what she wasn’t. What she didn’t have in her life.
Nolan had that kind of life. Even if he’d lost his father, he had that kind of sit-around-a-pot-roast-and-talk-about-your-day family.
She snorted.
And then she wondered if maybe she wasn’t a little bit judgy. She had condemned Nolan for being judgmental of her when she was guilty of the same thing. Ironic, huh?
She had been hard on him, accusing him of forming opinions of her based on gossip and stereotypes, but when he had glimpsed into the reality of her life with Mom, she didn’t want him looking inside. She didn’t want him seeing.
He had peeked into her world, stood outside her ugly home with his arms outstretched, offering to help her, offering to be there for her like a true friend. She had so few of those.
Friends expected things. They wanted to be allowed inside, and she was not okay with opening the door.
He’d made her uncomfortable. He wanted things from her. Things no one had ever wanted.
He wanted inside.
Life was so much easier when she was dealing with guys who didn’t want anything from her—who didn’t want anything real. Who never knocked on her door. She knew where she stood with them. Where they stood. So yeah, she used them, engaging with them only on a superficial level and never for any significant length of time. Random hookups. She called the shots. She stayed in control.