Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Declan opens his mouth, then closes it again. “Jesus Christ, Juliette, that’s not what I meant.”
“Then spit it out! Say what you mean.”
Before I freak out and leave!
“I’m saying,” he grinds out, all his cool composure gone, “sometimes men go after things they shouldn’t.”
Things—not people.
Things.
What an odd way to put it.
My chest feels tight now—I couldn’t be more mortified. The second my brother implied Aaron Bishop might not be into me for me, every insecurity I’ve had since childhood claws its ugly way up to the surface.
Declan’s quiet sister.
The one with no talent other than decent grades.
The sister who, in college, guys only wanted to meet so they could meet Declan.
My brother sees it written on my face and curses under his breath, and I watch as a mask of regret clouds his expression.
“Jules,” he says softly, removing his hat to run a hand through his hair. “You’re being ridiculous. You’re beautiful and funny and smart. This isn’t about that.”
He cannot even validate my feelings.
What a dick.
“Then what is it about?” My voice wavers despite my best effort, tears threatening to spill from my eyes.
Declan looks trapped.
He’s stepped in the muck and can’t find his footing.
“You’re right. This is about him,” he says finally.
“In what way?” I whisper.
He hesitates again.
Always with the hesitation.
“He’s competitive,” Declan says carefully. “You know that.”
Big deal.
“So are you. So is Dad. So are all your friends.”
“He’s competitive in a different way.”
“In what way?” My pulse is pounding in my ears now. Nothing he’s telling me is making sense—he’s talking in circles.
Declan presses his lips together. “Sometimes pride makes people stupid.”
I stare at him.
“And you think Aaron is stupid?”
“I think men don’t separate their ego from other things.”
Other things? What on earth is he talking about? All he’s doing is giving me vague warnings and cryptic nonsense, and it’s wearing thin on my nerves.
“Why would I care if he has an ego?” I fire back. “I was literally raised in a house with you.”
He drags a hand over his face again, then settles his hat back on his head, bending the brim like he needs something to do with himself. “Jules. He and I—”
“Don’t get along?” I cut in. “That sounds like a you problem. Stop projecting.” My pulse is pounding now. “Why does everything have to be about you? Why can’t you be happy for me?”
He opens his mouth like he’s about to argue, then stops himself.
“Either tell me what he did,” I say, standing up, packing up my laptop and charger, “or stop trying to warn me off him with zero information.”
“Jules—”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “Nope, you don’t get to plant seeds of doubt and supply no information.”
His expression hardens, then softens again. “I don’t trust him.”
“Why?”
“I just don’t.”
I give a short, humorless laugh. “Not good enough.”
For a moment we stare at one another like we did when we were kids, staring contest activated, before I break first, slinging the strap of my bag over my shoulder.
“I like him,” I say again, slower this time. Clearer. “He makes me feel good. He makes me feel confident. So, until you give me an actual reason not to, I’m not blowing up the start of something great because you feel like throwing your weight around.”
I don’t wait for him to respond.
I turn and walk out before he can say a single word.
My hands are shaking by the time I hit the sidewalk, and it takes several moments to compose myself. I suck in a breath. Then another. Cold air fills my lungs, burning on the way down.
I hate that I’m crying.
Hate that I’m having doubts.
It takes a full minute before I can trust myself to reach for my phone.
Tap out a text to the first person that pops into my mind—for the first time, that person is not Blaire.
Juliette: I just walked out on my brother and I wish so much that you didn’t have a game tonight because I could use a hug.
It takes him several minutes to reply.
Aaron: What happened?
Juliette: He was being a jerk. Declan decided to interrogate me about you over coffee—apparently you’re too competitive and I should be careful.
Aaron: I’m sorry he put you in that position.
My heart softens.
Aaron: You don’t deserve to feel questioned for who you choose to spend time with.
God.
Juliette: Thank you. That’s exactly what I said.
Another instant reply.
Aaron: You okay?
The concern in two simple words makes my throat tighten.
I smile despite my somber mood.
Juliette: I’m fine. Annoyed.
Juliette: He wouldn’t come out and say what the problem was but I gathered… he thinks you have some kind of master plan. Which is ABSURD. LOL
There’s another long pause.
Did I insult him? Did that sound like I agreed?
Aaron: He said that?? To your FACE?
Juliette: He did. And it made me feel like shit, and now I’m crying. UGH!!! Blah, I hate this. I need you to make me feel better.