Southern Storm (Southern 3) - Page 27

Only when I look over and see it’s dark outside do I realize it’s past ten o’clock. I shut down my computer and then walk upstairs. The light is on in the spare room, but when I walk over, nothing could prepare me for what I see. She lies in the middle of the big bed in the fetal position. Her eyes are red and puffy because she has been crying.

“What happened?” I ask, my heart stopping in my chest. I walk to the bed and sit beside her.

“Nothing,” she says, her voice so soft you can barely hear it. “Absolutely nothing.”

I reach out and push her hair away from her face. “Then why the tears?”

“My whole life, all I wanted was to be better. I saw the way they would look at my mother, and all I could do was say I was going to be better than that,” she says, the tears so big they roll over her eyes. “I should have left.” Her voice sounds so broken. “I should have taken the money I had and left.”

I lie down in bed with her on top of the blankets and take her in my arms. “I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t know what I would do without you,” I say, but she doesn’t answer. Instead, she cries in my arms.

I don’t know how long we are both sleeping, but when I hear the sound of glass breaking, my eyes open, and then I hear a car peel off. “What is that?” she mumbles. I get off the bed and walk over to the window that overlooks the front lawn and both of our cars. “What is it?” I hear from beside me, and then she must see what I see. “Oh my God.”

I walk to the side table where I placed my phone and call Grady, who answers after one ring. “Mayor.”

“Hey, no rush,” I start to say and look over to Savannah who stands there with her hand over her mouth, “but someone just smashed my car windows.”

Chapter Twelve

Savannah

“I have no idea. I heard the sound of windows breaking and then a car speeding away.” Beau stands there on his phone, and the only thing I can do is look down at his windows. “Yeah, tomorrow is fine.”

He hangs up the phone, and he rubs his hands over his face. “I’m sorry,” I say softly. “This is all my fault.”

He looks over at me, and his hair is all rustled from sleep, his shirt untucked and wrinkled. “How is any of this your fault?” he asks, putting his hands on his waist. “It could be all the women who are after me,” he tries to joke. “I did send what’s-her-name away, and now your truck is in my driveway.”

I sit on the bed. “Everyone knows we are best friends, and you would never date me.” I try to make the words not matter.

“Why you do think I would never date you?” he asks, and I avoid his eyes. “If anything, you’re the only one I would date.” My eyes fly to his. “I mean, let’s face it, we are best friends,” he says. “I’m with you more than anyone else. Also, that kiss was out of this world.”

My stomach dips just a bit when he mentions the kiss. The kiss that I’ve wanted more of ever since. “Even your Tuesday girl?” I joke with him, and he glares at me.

“What is it with this fucking Tuesday girl?” He throws his hands in the air. “I haven’t fucked anyone on a Tuesday in a while, let alone every Tuesday.” He walks to the door. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“So feisty,” I joke, and he looks over his shoulder. “Maybe you should be having sex if you are this uptight.” Though the thought of him having sex with other women makes me physically sick. He sticks up his finger, flipping me off, and walks toward his bedroom. I hear the door close and then the water turns on. I put my hand to my stomach, and I get up, walking downstairs to get some water. I walk back up the stairs and walk back into the bedroom. I’m about to slip into bed when my phone starts to ring. I immediately jump up, my heart hammering as thoughts of Ethan being sick make my heart beat even faster.

I pick up the phone, seeing that it’s an unknown number. “Hello?” I say and then don’t hear anything. “Hello?” I say again, and I hear the phone beep and then look at the screen, seeing that it’s off. The phone rings again, and I answer now right away, and it’s the same thing.

“Are you hungry?” Looking toward the door, I see Beau’s out of the shower and standing in the doorway wearing shorts. Looking at him with my mouth hanging down, I look away and wonder why this bothers me now when I see him like that all the time. Maybe because I’m in his house. “What’s wrong?”

Tags: Natasha Madison Southern Romance
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