Make Me - Tessa Bailey Page 0,79

talk with her roommates was long overdue, and she knew it, so in the new, somewhat destructive spirit of not avoiding unpleasant conversations, she got the ball rolling. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about Russell.” Ouch. His name left her mouth feeling like the end of a lawn rake. “I didn’t even know . . . what it was. What we were.” She took a swallow of mimosa. “It doesn’t matter now, anyway. Now, it’s nothing.”

It agonized her to say the words. They didn’t feel like they could possibly be true. She’d spent the last ten days moderating a fight between her head and heart. One stubbornly clung to the belief she’d done the right thing, that if she’d given in to Russell, she would have lost the newfound respect she’d gained for herself. But the shuddering organ in her chest staunchly disagreed. It wanted back its counterpart.

“Abby . . .” Roxy blew out a long breath. “I’m not trying to call your bluff here . . . but I’m not sure you can call what’s between you and Russell nothing. He’s loved you since jump street. We’ve all known it.”

Abby stared out at Ninth Avenue, waiting for the ache in her stomach to pass, but it never did. I don’t want to be your friend, Abby. I want to be your husband. Words that should have made her cry happy tears, not bitter ones. “Russell made it nothing. All he had to do was be honest with me.” She turned her attention to Honey, then Roxy. “And while we’re on the subject of being honest, why didn’t you just tell me? You let me float around in the dark, just like him. Did you think it was funny?”

Honey looked horrified. “No. God, Abby. That’s not it at all.” She appeared to be searching for the right words. “We wanted you to have the experience of having Russell tell you. Every girl should have that. It wouldn’t have felt the same coming from us.”

Roxy snagged the plastic bottle. “If we’d known he’d make a jackass of himself and hurt you in the process, we would have told you months ago.”

They meant it. Abby knew her friends wouldn’t intentionally hurt her feelings, and honestly, she didn’t have the capacity to be mad at anyone else. “All’s forgiven. Just tell me next time someone is in love with me and decides friend-zoning me is a better idea than coming clean.”

Honey cracked a sad smile. “It’s a deal.” She plucked at her frayed jeans skirt. “So we all agree Russell acted like a jackass, but . . .”

“But is this really permanent?” Roxy asked, squinting into the sun. “I can’t imagine you two apart. You’re . . . Russell and Abby. Rabby.”

“That nickname never would have happened.”

“Says you.”

Abby massaged the back of her neck, wondering when her entire body would stop feeling trampled on. “It’s permanent,” she pushed out. “He doesn’t want to be my friend, and I can’t be with someone who’s threatened by what my family has. Or moves me around into different categories when he feels like it.” She crossed her arms over her middle. “He made me feel really horrible, okay? I know he didn’t mean to, but he did. And I’m not past it yet.”

Roxy laid a hand on her shoulder. “I get it. No one knows what you’re feeling, but you. We’ll support you no matter what.”

She nodded once. “Thanks.”

“Hey, uh . . . Abby?”

All three girls turned to find a man in jeans and an American Ninja Warrior T-shirt at the base of their stoop. Although they had never met, Abby knew who he was immediately. His resemblance to Russell wasn’t supernoticeable, but it was there in the set of his shoulders, the square shape of his jaw. Russell’s brother, Alec. All at once, worry crashed down on her head. The look on Russell’s face when he’d walked out of the apartment two Fridays ago was all she could see. Why was his brother here and not him? Had something happened to him?

When Roxy cleared her throat, Abby realized she hadn’t spoken. Wake up. She mentally shook herself and sat up straight. “Yes. I’m Abby.”

Alec scratched the back of his neck, appearing to have difficulty looking her in the eye. “Jesus. My brother aimed high.”

“Ohhhh,” Honey and Roxy said at the same time, obviously discerning the stranger’s identity.

“Would you mind if we talked alone for a minute?” Alec asked.

Abby felt glued to the step.