Page 43 of Trusting a Warrior

“What?” Her eyes widening, Devon took a step forward. “Oh, shit, no. Rhys is fine. I just talked to him. He’s perfectly fine, I promise.”

Her knees going weak in relief, Lani slumped against the doorjamb. “Thank God.”

Because she couldn’t take another loss.

“I’m so sorry.” Devon’s voice throbbed with remorse, her eyes shining with it. “I should’ve realized that’s where your mind would go first.”

“Yeah.” Still trembling from residual fright, Lani blew out a shaky breath. “What’re you doing here?”

“Well, other than scaring the shit out of you, I, uh, wanted to invite you to lunch.” Devon gave her a tentative smile. “My treat.”

Lani blinked. “Huh?”

“Lunch.” Devon’s smile wavered a bit. “I thought maybe we could have lunch today, get to know each other.”

Her shock made Lani’s tone sharper than she intended. “Why would we do that?”

Hearing it, Devon bit her lip. “Well, it’s, uh—”

“It’s what? Did Rhys put you up to this?” Raking one hand through her hair, Lani growled, “I swear to Christ, I’m gonna kick that man’s ass. I’m fine. It’s not his job to worry about me anymore.”

“He still will, though.”

The rueful tone gave Lani pause. “Well, Rhys and I are through. He only texts me once in a while to ask how I’m doing. We don’t talk, or see each other. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I know that.” Heaving a sigh, Devon said, “Okay, listen, here’s the thing. You said it’s not his job to worry about you, but he still will.”

“Well, if that’s true, he can stop.”

“I don’t think he can. And I don’t want him to.”

Lani rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“I don’t,” Devon said confidently. “A part of him still loves you, and his love for you, what you went through together, makes up a lot of who he is. He can’t just turn that off, and maybe it sounds crazy, but no, I don’t want him to. I don’t want him to lose that piece of himself.”

“Okay, I get it.” Lani crossed her arms over her chest with a cynical chuckle. “What’s that old saying? ‘Keep your friends close but your enemies closer’? Is that what we’re doing here?”

“See, that’s exactly what I mean,” Devon exclaimed. “Where is it written that two women automatically have to be enemies because of a man? Where’s the rule that says we can’t be friends? Ex or no, I’d still like to be your friend.”

“Why? For Rhys’s sake?”

“And mine. And yours. Women should empower each other, not be in competition to tear each other down. Sometimes we’re all we’ve got, right?” A spasm of pain crossed Devon’s face before she smoothed it out. “I’d really like to get to know you. We don’t have to be rivals.”

Studying her, Lani thought she seemed sincere, and maybe her motives were pure. Besides, she knew Rhys, and he wouldn’t fall in love with a jealous, vindictive bitch, no way, not when he himself was kindness personified. And Devon had done some sort of advocacy work with women in Afghanistan, hadn’t she?

God, the two of them were so perfect for each other. Both caretakers and healers, with all their shit together...

Totally unlike her, the one everyone thought still needed rescuing. That old crippling sense of inadequacy swept over Lani once more, and she heard herself blurt, “No, thanks. I’m fine. I have an appointment today anyway.”

Devon’s encouraging smile died. “Fair enough. I don’t think I could’ve bungled this any more if I tried.” She proffered a folded-up piece of paper. “Will you take my number? If you need anything at all, if you change your mind, please call me. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”

Numbly, Lani took the paper from her hand, her stomach churning. Devon turned and jogged lightly down the stairs toward a red compact parked at the curb, and once inside, she dropped her forehead to the steering wheel for several long moments before starting the engine and driving away.

Lani watched her taillights disappear off into the distance, then looked at the note crumpled between her fingers.

“Lady, I’m never going to call you,” she muttered under her breath, but something made her stuff the paper in her pocket instead of tearing it into a thousand pieces like she wanted to. Back inside her apartment, she flopped into her chair at the table with a groan. She pulled her journal to her and flipped to a new page, where she scrawled the date across the top, then wrote:

Well, I met Devon today, and ugh, I was a total bitch to her. A part of me feels like I should apologize, but a bigger part of me doesn’t give a shit. She actually thought we could be friends. That’s impossible, isn’t it?