Wrapped Up in You - Talia Hibbert Page 0,14

make you feel like a fool. Except maybe he already had.

At his words, something about her seemed to relax, just the tiniest bit. As if his honesty was the key to cooling her sudden ire. “Oh,” she said, and seemed suddenly at a loss.

Which only emphasised exactly how badly Will had messed up here. In the aftermath of her explosion, the magnitude of it really hit him.

He’d made Abbie doubt herself, hadn’t he?

He’d made her feel … played with.

He’d ignored her twin’s advice—ignored his own knowledge of her, and of the shit she’d been through with her husband—to carry out some cloak-and-dagger plan like she was a science experiment.

Well, fuck that. Fuck the fucking plan.

Will exhaled hard and propped his elbows on his knees, dropping his head onto his hands. “Shit,” he muttered.

“What are you doing?” Abbie demanded. She was always edgy when she was confused. Yet another thing he should’ve taken into account.

He should’ve taken her into account. That was the bottom line. But … “Honestly? I’ve never done this kind of thing before.”

“Well, that’s a lie,” she said. “I do see the headlines, you know. And don’t say it’s all made up, because Jase mentions things, too.”

Will frowned and looked up at her. She was still lovely in the pale morning light, even lovelier with that defiant frown and the fire in her gaze. “What are you talking about?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m talking about your marauding penis, William. I’m sure it’s very cold and lonely up here in the Highlands. But you better order yourself a Fleshlight because you ain’t warming that thing up in me.”

Will almost choked on his tongue. “Abbie!” Since when had the Farrell twins been this sex-obsessed?

“What? I know what you’re up to.” She scowled.

“No,” he said, straightening. “You don’t.” Was it his imagination, or did a flash of hope appear beneath her stony expression? Like the impression of a flash of lightning after you closed your eyes?

Maybe. She was probably hoping he hadn’t turned into a complete prick since they’d last seen each other, hoping he could explain this absolute shitstorm in a satisfactory manner. Which he really wished he could, but … crap. What was he supposed to say? Me and my marauding penis want a lot more from you than that?

Ha. Abbie hated feelings stuff. She’d been single for two years, and she sent him more men-ain’t-shit memes than she did Rihanna selfies, which was saying something. If he admitted he’d come here hoping to charm her into crushing on him, she’d probably laugh in his face.

But if he said … if he said, Thirteen years ago, you came home from uni for Christmas, and I saw you for the first time in months after seeing you every day for years, and it hit me like a brick that I was in love with you, always had been, and that has never changed, it’s never changed—

If he said that, she’d be unbelievably freaked out, and it would make the family Christmas awkward as shit.

And he’d lose her. Or rather, he’d learn once and for all that he’d never had her. Years of the-time-just-isn’t-right hopefulness would fade away like smoke. The maybe-possibly-one-days he’d used to get himself through dark times would vanish. They’d never really have existed in the first place. Wanting Abbie had kept him going for so long that having to carve her out of himself might fucking kill him. And if he spilled his guts and she politely said, “No, thank you,” he would have no choice but to die right then and there.

But if he lied, and it made her sad again, he’d die even harder.

So what the hell was he going to do?

“I care about you too much to fuck with you on purpose,” he said. That was honest. That was real. “You know that, don’t you?” He watched her face and hoped and hoped—

Yes. Her thawing was slow, like a reluctant spring, but it was there. “I suppose I do know that,” she said finally. “You’re—you’re like my brother.”

“No,” he said. The word came out firmer than he’d intended, but he didn’t regret it. He held her gaze and repeated himself. “No, Abigail. I’m not.”

Her throat moved as she swallowed. She studied him with those clever, clever eyes, and Will suddenly felt that he must be see-through.

But if see-through was what she wanted, he’d try his best to give it to her. He wished he could offer better, offer more, offer truer, but it turned