Make Me - Tessa Bailey Page 0,61
bills. “What the fuck is that?”
Mitchell attempted to look sympathetic, but satisfaction was written all over his face. “We both know Abby is a good person. She wanted you to have this. For that construction company you’re trying to get off the ground.” The green bills were thrust in his direction. As if he would take them. Christ, he could barely stand the sight of them. Or the knowledge that he’d lost. He hadn’t been good enough for her. No, it was worse than that. He’d . . . injured her. Ruined a night that should have been special. Maybe traumatized her forever. He deserved to feel like his stomach was being stomped on by baseball cleats. Deserved far worse.
True to form, she was still trying her best to help him, trying to help him succeed even thought he’d wronged her. That’s why she was the best. That’s what made her Abby. And he needed to get as far away from her as possible, for her sake. It’s what the man who loved her should do—and he loved her so much he was struggling not to lie down in the road and demand this asshole drive over him with that fucking Mercedes. The symbol of everything he’d never be able to give Abby.
“I don’t want your money,” Russell choked out. “Or Abby’s money, for Chrissakes.”
The other man shrugged. “Fair enough.” He pocketed the bills. “How about a ride back to the city?”
“Go fuck yourself. I’ll take the bus.”
Russell stood frozen on the road until the Mercedes drove out of sight. Then he bent at the waist and dry heaved over the sandy road.
ABBY BOUNDED DOWN the stairs, taking them two at a time. In the space of twenty minutes, she’d showered, changed, and answered five emails. Wonder of wonders, they hadn’t even stressed her out. Would anything ever stress her out again? Her body felt so deliciously utilized, her vocal cords just raw enough to give her a smoky sex voice, a discovery she’d made while attempting to sing in the shower. A long-sleeved swim cover-up handily concealed the bruising on her wrists, but she liked knowing they were there. Like a naughty secret, reminding her how much she’d been wanted. She’d never had one of those before.
Her progress came to an abrupt stop at the base of the staircase. Having snuck in as quietly as possible, she’d expected everyone to still be sleeping. But there was the super group, standing in the living room, looking as if they’d been caught talking about something uncomfortable. Most of them, anyway. Honey and Roxy were still in their pajamas, hair unbrushed. Ben and Louis wouldn’t even look at her. Trying to ignore the beginnings of alarm, Abby ran a hand down her ponytail and scanned the space for Russell but didn’t see him.
“Hey.” Abby headed toward the kitchen, well aware she was making an escape. From what, though, she didn’t know. Didn’t want to. “I was just about to make some coffee.”
Honey followed her into the sunlit room, Roxy close behind. The guys were nowhere in sight, which only spurred her worry. Ben and Louis didn’t go two feet without the girls if they could help it, meaning her roommates wanted privacy.
Honey climbed onto one of the breakfast stools. “Where did you sleep last night?”
“Um.” She wanted to tell them everything. Maybe not every detail of her night with Russell but enough to reciprocate for all the secrets they’d spilled over the last six months. Something held her back, though. Whether it was the identical sympathetic expressions on her friends’ faces or the fact that she hadn’t spoken to Russell yet, but holding back suddenly felt conducive to survival. “I had some work to do and knew you two would give me a hard time, so I took my laptop out to the pool house. I fell asleep there.”
They were both silent a moment until Roxy finally broke the tension Abby’s lie had created. “Did . . . did Russell sleep there, too?”
When goose bumps broke out along her skin, she was twice as grateful for the long sleeves. “Why are you asking?”
Roxy took the can of Maxwell House from Abby’s hand and performed the task of making coffee since Abby’s had stalled out before even starting. “We’re just trying to figure out why Russell left in such a hurry.” Her friend’s tone was softer than usual, but it detonated like a bomb in the silent kitchen. Not to mention, Abby’s stomach.