Page 110 of Almost Enough

His buddy loses it, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. I don’t know why I thought I needed to defend Whitley. This woman can hold her own and then some.

She doesn’t need me.

She loops her arm through mine, pulling me away. “Let’s go.”

We make it a few steps before my mind starts reeling. Who the hell am I to stand here with her?

The cool night air hits us as we step outside, and Whitley drops my arm, rounding on me with fire in her eyes.

“What the hell was that?” she demands.

“He was talking about you like…”

“Like what? Like he’s an asshole?” She crosses her arms. “Beau, I can handle Lance. I’ve been handling Lance and guys just like him my entire adult life.”

“I know you can.” My jaw clenches. “But hearing him say that shit about you⁠—”

“So you put your hands on him?”

Shit…she saw that. Guilt twists in my gut. She’s right. This was her night, and I just made a scene. “I’m sorry.”

The brown in her hazel eyes darkens. She’s hurt. I can see the disappointment there.

I drag a hand through my hair, feeling like I’m fucking this up worse by the second. “I shouldn’t have…”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” She steps closer, lifting her chin. Her gaze is steady enough to hold me in place without raising her voice. “I don’t need you to fight my battles, Beau.” Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t look away. “I need you to trust that I can handle myself.”

“I do trust you. But I can’t just stand there and listen to some asshole talk about you like that.”

“Why?” She searches my face. “Why couldn’t you just let it go?”

Because the thought of anyone reducing her to something disposable makes me want to break things. Because she deserves better than that. Because I’m falling for her so hard it terrifies me.

But I don’t say any of that.

“I just…couldn’t.”

She stares at me for a long moment. Her anger dims, replaced by something that looks a hell of a lot like pity. “Can we just go?” she asks.

I nod, following her to the car. The Mustang sits under a lone streetlight, and I unlock it in silence, holding her door open like I always do. She slides in without looking at me.

The drive back is quiet, but it’s nothing like the comfortable silence we’ve settled into over the past few weeks. This silence is suffocating, crawling up my throat and wrapping around my windpipe. Every second stretches and every word I could say feels wrong before it even leaves my mouth.

My phone buzzes for what has to be the twentieth time tonight.

“Are you going to answer that?” Whitley asks quietly.

“No.”

“It’s been going off all night.”

I keep my eyes on the road, hands tight on the wheel. “I know.”

Fuck. She doesn’t deserve this version of me, but it’s the only one I’ve got right now.

“Beau.” She shifts in her seat to face me. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

I stare straight ahead, jaw locked tight. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to shut this down.