north that she finally breaks. “Where’s Evie?”
I tell her the run-down of today’s events.
Tori chews her lip and blinks at the windshield a few times. “I want to hate her for what she’s put you through. For what she obviously did to you today, but I…can’t. I just can’t. I’m a woman, too. Never in my worst nightmares can I truly, really imagine living through what she’s been through.” She takes a deep breath. “Don’t be mad at me, but after the little you revealed at the wedding, I had to dig deeper and do my own research to fully know what you’re up against with that situation. I’m not about to pretend I understand what you and your friends have been through or to give you even free therapist type of advice about how to cope. What I will promise is to do my best to keep this out of the press. I will call in whatever reinforcements I need to make that happen, okay?”
The only thing stopping me from reaching across the cab of my truck to hold her hand is the horrible driving conditions. She needs to concentrate, and I need to man up instead of using her for comfort she’s probably not comfortable with. “Rob’s taking care of it, actually. The only thing I’m going to need your help with is laying low until my face heals.”
“Done.”
We drive the rest of the way to Albany in silence.
“You’re sure this color matches my skin tone? I’m warm, and you’re cool.”
I smother the urge to laugh. Not that it’s not funny. But when a six foot, two-hundred-twenty-pound professional football running back asks for the hundredth time if my concealer is the right shade for his face, I know he’s genuinely concerned about wearing makeup for the first time in his life.
“I can’t even tell you have anything on,” I assure him. “We didn’t need to come out in public tonight. Not that I’m unappreciative of your offer to take me to dinner, but you could’ve thanked me for all the work I’ve done in the privacy of your home without anyone else seeing us.”
He leans back on his side of the booth, finally seeming to relax about his appearance. “I needed to get out of there for a while. I’m a jock. I know practice makes perfect. I’ve gotta get back to team activities eventually, so I’m going to have to get used to either wearing makeup all the time or lying about a cat I don’t actually own.”
“I could actually adopt a cat for you, so you won’t have to lie,” I offer.
He doesn’t laugh, so I try another route. “The scratches are healing nicely. I don’t think the scars will be permanent. It’s just going to take a little more time than we expected for the marks to fade to normal.”
He barks out a laugh then glances around before leaning across the table to whisper, “It sounds sick, but part of me wishes they wouldn’t fade at all. I’ve been riding Evie’s ass for years about how to deal with the way worse scars she still has, and this is the closest I’ve ever been to getting a taste of my own medicine. I get it now more than I ever did before. And hell. It’s not even nearly the same thing. My best friend attacked me in a terrified moment of mistaken identity. As soon as she realized what she’d done, she couldn’t stop crying and apologizing. A fucking sicko attacked her in a much worse way and almost killed her, and now he’s out of prison. It’s not fair. Fuck, it’s so unfair.”
“It is an absolute privilege to know you, Michael Mitchell.” I stare at him in awe. As handsome as I thought he was at first sight, as much as he’s gained my respect for the way he’s reacted to my drunken antics, he looks absolutely brilliant in the dim light of this elegant restaurant. His glowing appearance has nothing to do with the fact that he’s footing the bill for this very expensive meal. He’s gone from all-American stud to knight in shining armor in my opinion. “My job aside, I am so honored to be sitting here with you right now.”
He scoffs. “Why would you say a thing like that? I literally just admitted to you I’ve been a terrible friend for years to someone who means the world to me.”
I swirl the wine in my glass and think about how