Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(101)

I glance over at West. “What?”

He hands me his phone as a black-and-white security video fills the screen. “That’s what your fancy-ass lawyer found after talking to me. Turns out when you own the building, getting security footage is a breeze.”

I hit play and watch West stride into the building’s front lobby, wearing a plaid collared shirt, tattoos on display, hair slicked back. This is his version of dressed up. He’s speaking to the woman at the front desk when Stan appears at the corner of the screen.

Stan’s hands shoot up and flail frantically—he appears to be visibly agitated.

In response, West holds his own hands up, stepping away. Of course, I can see the shit-eating grin on his face, which didn’t help diffuse the situation. Within moments, Stan has leaped at West.

He tackles him to the ground only because he takes West by surprise. He can’t land a punch. West turns and shifts, and Stan punches the carpeted floor, looking like a petulant child throwing a tantrum.

Then he knees West between the legs, and I watch my friend double over on the screen.

“Oh fuck.” I reach down and protectively cup my dick.

“Yeah. It’s all right. I don’t need to get a vasectomy now.”

All I can do is shake my head as I watch West recover before hitting Stan once.

He knocks him out with one hit and leaves him lying flat on the ground.

“See? I was a good boy.”

I chuckle. He’s right. That’s just self-defense. “Rosie would kill me for saying this, but… that was kind of awesome.”

My best friend beams back at me. “We still got it.”

“But you shouldn’t have been there in the first place.” I tip my head back against the rest. “We can’t pull this shit anymore, West. It was funny when we were kids. The two of us against the world. But we’re not kids anymore. The dynamic has changed. This…” My hand waves around the car. “There are too many real-life consequences. Bowling once a week needs to be the only dumb shit we do now.”

“Wow, that sounds an awful lot like something Rosie would say.”

I grunt and nod once.

“I know you think I’m dumb?—”

“I don’t think—” I try to cut in.

“I’m razzing you. Chill out. What I’m reading between the lines here is that it’s you and her against the world now.”

I roll my head along the headrest to look at my friend. “This is a weird conversation.”

He blinks twice. “Are you… are you breaking up with me?”

I bark out a laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

West punches my shoulder playfully and then hisses between his teeth. “No, you are. I was married once, remember? Ask me why it didn’t work.”

“Why didn’t it work?”

“Because neither of us especially wanted to be on the same team.”

I see the wisdom in what he’s saying.

“I like Mia as a person. She’s a great mom. A good human. But, man, oh man, the way I would do anything but spend time with her. That’s actually why I started bowling. Just grasping for a reason to get outta the house.”

“Shit. That really is desperate.”

He chuckles. “Get fucked, Junior. Bowling is the best.”

We fall into a companionable silence, the tires humming along the road, and I get lost thinking about the people I want on my team. The ones who love me enough to tell it like it is. The ones who know me as more than just my name or my connections.

People like that are hard to come by.

A person you want to spend your free time with. A person you never tire of. A person who can be brutally honest with you because they want the best for you—not because they’re trying to wound you, but because they feel safe enough to lay it all out.

That takes a special kind of trust, one that—the more I think about it—Rosie and I have always had. Where we can call each other on our shit, but never with any malice.

It hits me that no one has ever understood me the way Rosie does. It hits me that our trust is more than just surface level. It’s forged in friendship. Bound in respect. Sprinkled with animosity, which I’m starting to think is really just longing for more. It always has been. Except now, it’s our special brand of foreplay.

Nausea hits me as I think back on all the moments she’s been vulnerable around me. The little moments in our friendship she’s entrusted to me—the ones I’ve never told a soul about. Her diary. That key. That she called me to come get her that night.

I feel sick that I told West a secret that never belonged to me.

“So, she figured it all out?” West finally asks.

“I told her, but yeah. She’s smart—she definitely figured it out.”

“Are you… are you guys alright?”

I sigh heavily. “I believe I have royally pissed her off.”

West doesn’t say anything.

“I shouldn’t have told you what happened. That was an overstep.”

He nods. “Probably. But she’ll forgive you.”

“I hope so.”

“She will.”

“I was trying to handle it for her, not to embarrass her or make any waves.”

West snorts and slaps his knee. “Way to make no waves, Ford. Expertly done, you awkward fuck.”