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“Keaton, he is your best friend. Give the man more credit,” I say, slightly disapprovingly.
Am I sticking up for this guy now? Yeah, I think I am?
I don’t know what world this is, but does it even matter at this point?
“And when he comes to you with questions or concerns about everything, I’d have a little more faith in him than to think he’d do anything to hurt you.”
She blinks, stunned.
“Wow. You’d think he was your best friend, not mine.”
“Yeah, well, he’s really been there for me these last few days,” I admit to her. “I wasn’t doing so hot with everything going on, and I started having panic attacks… he helped me through them. A couple times, actually.”
Her soft smile breaks the tension in an instant, like all the anger and fear was just syphoned out.
“Awe, you guys like each other,” she teases playfully, and I chuckle.
“Yeah, well, don’t expect us to start having sleep overs and braiding each other’s hair or anything,” I say.
“I would never… Sander’s hair is way too short for braids,” she says, and I throw my head back, a bark of laughter booming from my chest.
“You’re hilarious,” I tell her, and she shrugs stiffly.
“Even so, I still don’t want you two involved,” she says.
As if that matters at all at this point.
“Tough,” I tell her, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Excuse me?”
I stand up from my seat beside her bed and lean in close to her, placing a sweet kiss against her split lips.
“I said, tough.”
It wasn’t easy to see, but I knew that Keaton was attempting to arch her brow in challenge. But the swelling and butterfly tape kept her from being completely successful.
I chuckle at her effort.
There’s my girl.
Chapter 80
I swear, if I could get out of this hospital bed right now, I’d probably strangle Bodhi.
Everything I’ve worked so hard to hide these past couple of years. He just told Sander like it was nothing. And now they’re both involved in my mess.
“Bodhi, this isn’t your battle to fight. It isn’t Sander’s, either,” I tell him, trying to be firm, but it’s useless. He’s just standing there with his arms crossed, smirking.
Prick.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he says, coming closer, taking my hand in his.
“How is that?”
He watches me for a moment, memorizing my face, but I don’t want him to. Not when I look like this. I haven’t had a chance to see myself, but I know what it feels like, and I’m guessing I look pretty messed up.
I turn my head to the side, only for him to catch my chin and gently guide me back to him.
