34. Corey

“What’s going on?” Nolan turns from where he’s applying the final layer of mud to the living room wall.

“I’ve got to go pick up Fallon,” I say, typing the name of the manor into my phone for directions.

“Is she okay?” Nolan abandons the drywall knife. “Where are we going?”

I shake my head. “I think so. I don’t know. I need to go.”

Palmer grabs his discarded sweatshirt and pats Nolan on the shoulder. “I’ve got this. Are you okay finishing what’s left?”

The others left a couple of hours ago after we celebrated the near completion of the drywall saga. Nolan looks between us. “If you need me, call.”

I nod and turn for the stairs, Palmer a step behind.

“Where is she?”

I pass him my phone as we get in my truck.

“Do we know what we’re walking into?” Palmer asks.

I shake my head as Lexie’s reminder that Fallon never asks for help has me driving faster.

Flowers and signs for the wedding greet us as we pull up to the manor, but I barely notice them because I recognize Fallon sitting on the curb. Recognize the shape of her shoulders and the hue of her hair. Hell, I’m pretty sure I could recognize her elbows at this point.

Fallon looks up as I pull closer, and my chest tightens at the sight of her somber expression. Her gaze moves to Palmer, and I see the flash of embarrassment on her face before she ducks her head and says something to Lexie beside her.

I leave the truck running and hop out, dressed in my stained tee and basketball shorts.

Lexie grins at me and looks at Fallon. “You owe me five bucks.” She turns to me. “She wasn’t convinced you’d show up.”

Fallon winces as Palmer releases a dry chuckle. “Honest drunks are my favorite.” He rubs his palms together and glances beyond the girls at the manor. “You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

“Who’s he?” Lexie asks, squinting at Palmer before glancing at me. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Let’s go.” Lexie starts to stand but loses her balance.

I grip her hand to steady her and haul her upright. She releases a giggle as she pats my arm.

“I like you. And I like this dress.” She looks down at herself. “But I hate these shoes.” She proceeds to peel one off, clutching my arm for support as my attention strays back to Fallon. She is always gorgeous, but tonight, she’s dressed to steal secrets and hearts—likely mine if I don’t tread carefully.

As though feeling my gaze, her dark blue eyes shift to mine, and my thoughts come to a full stop at the hesitation and confusion that reminds me of that night at Pops’s birthday.

Lexie shrinks a couple of inches as she frees her second shoe. “You should have listened to me and invited Corey as your date. Then, Tobias really would have cried.” She pats my chest as quickly as she did my arm. “I bet you look good in a tux.” She cranes her neck to look at Fallon.

“Who’s Tobias?” Palmer asks.

“Her ex.” Lexie throws out an arm, pointing at Fallon. “He was an ass. Is an ass.” Her brow creases. “Very much still an ass.” She sighs. “Can we get some food? I need tacos. Or a burger. Ohhhh. Pancakes.”

Palmer leads her to the passenger side of my truck and helps her into the backseat.

“I should have called a Lyft. I’m sorry, I?—”

“Is he here?” I ask.

Fallon studies me for several seconds. “Not as my date.” Her voice is soft. “His brother is the groom.”

“So your ex is here, and you called me to come pick you up?”

“Not because of him.” She shakes her head.

“Then clarify it for me, Fallon. Why’d you call me?”

Her eyes shift between mine as her cheeks glow a light shade of red. “Because I trust you.”

Her reason sounds like something a friend would say, why Hadley, Evelyn, Mila, or my own sister would call, and though it burns—scorches—my damn chest, I accept her reason and tilt my head in the direction of my truck. “Let’s go.”

Fallon climbs into the back seat, and the moment my door is closed, Lexie releases a heavy sigh. “We missed cake. How’d we miss the best part of the wedding?”

Fallon doesn’t respond. She’s silent as Lexie continues talking about inconsequential things that range from the wedding to her sister.

I pull up to a Waffle House on the opposite end of town, a safe distance from both the wedding venue and campus, to ensure no one recognizes them.

“I love waffles.” Lexie sighs as she slips out of the truck, carrying her shoes that Fallon insists she wear.

“It says I have to have shoes, not wear them.” Lexie points at the sign, then marches inside.

A guy greets us as we follow Lexie to a booth near the back, where she sits down. Palmer slides in beside her. Fallon hesitates but then slips in, sitting across from her cousin.

A waiter arrives a moment later, looking across our stained attire and the girls’ dresses before arching their brows and passing us menus. “Can I get you folks something to drink?”

“Chocolate milk, please.” Lexie’s voice is almost animated.

“She’ll take a coffee, too,” Fallon says. “And I’ll have a sweet tea, please.”

Palmer and I both order coffee.

“I’ve never been to a Waffle House,” Palmer says, looking over the menu.

“We’re happy to corrupt you,” Lexie says. “Get the peanut butter waffle, and you’ll never forget this night.”

Neither of the girls look at their menus before the server returns with our drinks and to take our orders. Both girls order the peanut butter waffle.

Lexie gasps when I order the pecan waffle.

“I’ll take a peanut butter waffle, too,” Palmer says.

Lexie nods approvingly as the waiter collects our menus and goes to put in our order.

“You look familiar,” Lexie says, looking at Palmer.

“I play football,” he tells her.

Lexie shakes her head. “I don’t watch football.”

“He was at the bar with Corey that night,” Fallon says, taking a sip of her drink.

Lexie studies Fallon for a second and then looks at Palmer. “You were?”

Palmer pulls his cup closer as he nods. He’s the pickiest about his coffee, preferring it so strong you can’t see the bottom of your cup.

“Why don’t you look relieved, Fal? We left. The coast is clear. No mishaps. No drama.” Lexie stares at Fallon. “Ohhhh.” Lexie glances at Palmer and then back at her. “You think he’s judging you because he was… ohhhhh.”

Palmer shoots a curious look at Fallon, who blushes as she eyes her cousin.

“Since champagne is your only filter right now, maybe we table conversation until you finish your coffee and can walk in a straight line,” Fallon suggests.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed about. Tell her.” Lexie stabs Palmer in the ribs with her elbow, prompting him to agree.

“I’m pretty sure I should stay out of this conversation,” he says. “But I hold no judgment. Corey didn’t tell us a damn thing. For all I know, you guys went for a long walk on the beach.” He lifts his coffee to his lips.

Lexie beams at me. “Did you know she almost didn’t message you? It took me a week to convince her.”

I’m curious to know what changed her mind, but reserve that question for later.

“I told her to invite you as her date tonight because she needed a buffer between Chrissy and Tobias, but she was worried you’d be uncomfortable because our whole family was there. And with Kelly, and Becca, and all the other bitches she thought the soccer drama would worsen and then?—”

Fallon clears her throat. “I’m seriously regretting so many things right now, starting with telling you anything.”

“He needs to know.” Lexie turns to me. “She keeps trying to convince herself to stop liking you, but I’m in your corner. I’m your Jiminy Cricket because you make her happy. Really happy. I always know when you message her because she gets super smiley.” She extends her thumb and middle finger as though painting a large smile on her face.

“She makes him pretty damn happy, too,” Palmer says.

“Of course she does. Fallon’s a fucking ten. Hell, she’s a twenty.”

Our waffles arrive then, and I’m pretty sure Fallon sighs with relief as she takes another drink of her sweet tea.

“So, with all this happiness, what’s the complication?” Palmer asks as soon as our waiter is out of earshot.

“What complication?” Lexie asks, lowering her nose to smell her waffle. “This smells better than cake. Fuck cake. And fuck Asher. And fuck Tobias.”

“Who’s Asher?” Palmer asks.

“The guy I thought I loved who just married my sister.” Lexie shakes her head. “Not love. I didn’t love him. I liked him. A lot.” She admits with a sigh before reaching for her coffee. “More than just because of his money like my sister.”

Palmer’s eyes flare with surprise and a hint of amusement. We’ve spent way too much time in Nolan’s basement these past few weeks.

“I can’t believe he brought Chrissy tonight.” Lexie stabs her waffle.

“Who’s Chrissy?” Palmer asks.

“Tobias’s date and Fallon’s bitchy ex-teammate who’s been a complete and total wench. Catch up.” Lexie tears off a bite of waffle.

“Damn,” Palmer says.

Lexie nods as she chews. “It was the epitome of hell, and Fallon’s too nice to tell Chrissy she can shove it up her ass, and she likes Kelly too much and is afraid she’s going to be her Chrissy.”

Fallon rubs an index finger between her brows. “You have a lifetime ban on champagne.” She pulls in a breath and reaches for the syrup. “And just to clarify, seeing Tobias didn’t bother me. That ship sailed, sunk, and the waters have frozen over.” She slathers her waffle with syrup, and though I think the assurance is for me, she doesn’t look my way.

“Damn right, it has,” Lexie says.

“This all happened at one wedding?” Palmer asks.

Lexie nods, her expression solemn as her eyes lower to her waffle. “And I was the maid of honor.”

Palmer winces, and my guilt turns into a brush fire, regretting every damn word I said when arriving at the wedding and every minute of the past couple of days I didn’t spend trying to break through the walls Fallon has been hiding behind.

“You know what’s kind of ironic?” Lexie asks, looking at Fallon this time. “You met Corey because of this stupid wedding, and here we are post-wedding, spending the night with him again. Well, not the night, because you’re terrified of losing soccer and even more terrified he’ll be like Tobias to scratch that itch again, but…” She lifts her fork into the air. “Regardless, it’s a full saga.”

“Less talking, more eating,” Fallon says, pushing Lexie’s plate a little closer to her.

I glance at Fallon, a dozen more questions stoking the flames of my curiosity.

“We finished mudding the basement tonight,” Palmer says when the silence spreads into minutes.

“Mudding the basement?” Lexie asks.

Palmer nods and launches into telling her about the construction project we’ve spent the past several weeks on.

Fallon remains quiet even after her waffle is finished.

I reach for her hand, which is resting on her thigh, and run my thumb along the back of her knuckles. I tune out the other two as they discuss horoscopes, football, and our friend group.

Fallon’s gaze shifts to mine, and I weave my fingers with hers, stroking my thumb from her wrist to pinky.

“I’m glad you called me.”

Her gaze tracks over mine, seeking the validity of my words. I stare back, daring her to find a single fault line in my admission, knowing she won’t.

She shakes her head and looks over my shoulder as though the moment has grown too intense—too intimate.

I gently squeeze her hand, drawing her gaze back to mine. “I’m sorry for this week and for giving you any doubts. I want to be the person you call when you need help. Hell, I want to be the person you call for everything, Fallon.”