Shaken (Twisted Fox #2) - Charity Ferrell Page 0,61
manage, which is laughable.
“What do you want, Archer?” she snaps, resting her hand on her waist.
“Is Georgia here?”
“Yep.” She taps her foot, her stare cautious.
“Can I come in and talk to her?”
“One moment, please.” She slams the door in my face, and I hear her yell Georgia’s name before saying, “Asshole Archer is here.”
She opens the door again, steps out of my way, and points down the hall.
It’s my first time in their townhome. They recently moved into Jamie’s place after she moved in with Cohen. It’s nice, but I’m too preoccupied to take a good look around. Making shit right with Georgia is my objective, not admiring the fucking wallpaper.
Georgia is standing in her doorway, her hip nudged against the doorframe, with her arms crossed. “Why are you here? I told you not to come.”
“And I told you I was anyway.”
I stand a few inches from her, not wanting to creep too much into her space yet. She hesitates, staring so hard at me, as if she’s attempting to read my soul. Her hair is down with two messy pigtail-looking buns on the top of her head, and her sweatpants are so large that I’m positive they’re Cohen’s. At least, that’s what I want to tell myself and pretend there’s no way they could be another man’s.
I’m surprised and grateful when she steps to the side and waves me into her bedroom.
Backing up, she falls onto her bed, grabs a bright purple shag pillow, tugs it against her stomach, and sits cross-legged. “Why are you here?”
I walk deeper into her bedroom. “You’re seriously fucking asking me that?”
“I’m seriously fucking asking you that.”
“We haven’t spoken since the party.”
“That’s a problem?”
“Jesus, Georgia. Yes, that’s a goddamn problem. What we were afraid of happening—Cohen finding out—happened, and you’re acting clueless as to why we should talk.”
She tightens her hold on the pillow. “I’m well aware of what happened.” She taps her chin. “You left me there, by myself, to clean up the mess. I was already worked up after you demanded you have a say in who I can and can’t sleep with.” She shifts her finger from her chin and points at me. “Then Cohen walked in, and you bailed. I had to force a smile and go back to the party because, unlike you, I don’t run away like a scared bitch when problems arise. I put on a brave face and handle it.”
Guilt seeps up my throat. If I could go back in time, I’d stay. I’d stay, and poor Noah’s room would have some damage to it. In my head, I was thinking about Cohen. He needed time to calm down before we talked. I should’ve thought more about Georgia and how it would affect her.
“I’ve been putting on a brave face for years, Georgia.” My honesty shocks us both. I sit on the edge of her bed. “I came here to apologize. What I said and how I acted was wrong. Hell, after all these years, all the shit I’ve done and how I’ve treated you is wrong.”
I fucked us up.
Fucked up everything.
Fucked her up.
At that moment, I realize I’ve been selfish, doing all this to her.
I should’ve made it clear in the beginning that there was never a chance for us. Instead, I sent mixed signals.
Fucked with her head and her heart.
“I appreciate the apology,” she says gently and genuinely.
“This should help with the tension, Cohen knowing.”
“Mm-hmm.” She nods in agreement. “Does this mean you’ll stop acting like I’m the plague you want to steer clear of?”
I wish things were different, wish that I could apologize with more than words. That I could lay her down and ask for forgiveness with my lips, my tongue, my body. I’d slide into her and whisper how much she meant to me.
How my dead heart can’t stop pounding against my chest when she’s around.
How, even with her arguing, she’s kept me going more than she’ll ever know.
How she’s helped heal me without even knowing about it.
I nod. “I want the bullshit, the games, to stop.”
She raises a brow. “Is that you saying you want to be friends?”
“I guess so.” This is us settling—something that’s necessary but also hurts.
“Friends?” She holds out her hand.
I shake it. “Friends.”
One word.
One word I hate when it comes to her.
We’ll try, but we’ll never be able to go back and start fresh.