Oh.
Oh f*****g s**t.
“I know I should’ve told you,” he says, staring down as his shoe digs into the dirt. “But I didn’t want you to say no.”
My chest tightens.
“I just… didn’t want to visit her alone,” he adds, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “And I really wanted her to see the girl who’s been helping me achieve her dreams about me.”
For a second, I can’t say anything. I just stand there, watching the guy who hides behind sarcasm and lazy smirks—now looking like he’s holding himself together.
Guilt curls in my stomach. Why the hell did I grumble about wearing my best dress? About the long drive? God, I feel awful. How did I not piece this together when he drove in here?
Oh, Katy Evans, you absolute i***t.
When I notice he’s still watching me, waiting for maybe a word, or just a re
