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His eyes widened, and he grabbed the back of his neck. “I don’t hate him. Did he say something?”
“No. He hasn’t said anything—” My lip quivered, and I tried to pull myself together. “Anything at all, actually, since that night.”
“Oh, Em.” Bash grabbed my hands and pulled me to him. “I should have warned you.”
“About what?”
“He’s not reliable. He’s a chronic ghoster.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s common knowledge Mac is immature. His nickname is Savage—”
“Did he ghost you?”
Bash’s eyes widened, and I got my answer.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s such a stupid situation. I—”
A knock interrupted him, and I beat him to the door, opening it when he was two steps behind me.
“Pink,” Mac breathed.
“What are you doing here?” Bash towered over me, providing a refuge I didn’t ask for.
“I was in the area.”
“You live nowhere near here.”
“I was building up the nerve to stop by and then Emily sent me a picture—”
Bash scoffed and put his arm around my waist. “What a bullshit story. You were building up the nerve?”
I shrugged out of Bash’s embrace. It was better to stand there cold and isolated than it was to choose between them.
Whatever this was—whatever had built between them long before I met Mac—needed to come out if we were going to move forward.
“Family meeting,” I called, walking to the couch without waiting to see if either followed.
I sat down and hid my surprise when both of them sat at the same time. Me in an armchair, Bash on the loveseat, and Mac on the couch. Everyone in their own space, facing each other, but guarded.
I wanted both of them. I didn’t want to choose. This rift between them had to be mended, and if their stubborn asses wouldn’t take the first step, it was up to me.
“This sucks. Since the moment I woke up in the hotel room, I have felt so alone.” Tears shuddered through me and I didn’t stop them. I couldn’t.
“Em,” Bash murmured, but I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“I thought we shared a moment. That we had something growing between us. I thought we could work together, and the other night gave me so much hope, but it’s not what I thought it would be. We can’t work the way I want us to.”
“I’m so sorry,” Mac whispered.
“If I would have been honest with you, I could have told you ghosting is his specialty—”
“No, Bash. That’s not being honest with me. Being honest with me would be you telling me why you’re still hurting over him ghosting you.”
Bash grabbed the back of his neck, his nostrils flaring. “I’m not impulsive like him. I can’t just tell someone I’m interested one second and turn around and ghost them the next—”
