Page 163 of Relentless

“Well, it wasn’t top of mine and Brody’s to-do list when we used to hang out. We spent most of our time with a basketball or seeing who could give each other the darkest bruises.

“Sounds like fun,” I deadpan.

“But you’re forgetting that my best friend growing up was a girl, Doll. I’ve done plenty of things most guys haven’t.”

“Oh my God, tell me she made you do face masks and painted your nails.” I laugh, almost able to picture a young stubble-free Mav with a gunky mess on his face and cucumbers on his eyes.

“Uh—”

“Oh my God, you did.”

He shrugs one shoulder. “WatchedTen Things I Hate About Youwhile we did it too.”

“Oh my God,” I cry, my tears of mortification now replaced my happy ones. “I’m so talking to Ivy about this,” I blurt without thinking.

Mav’s eyes drop from mine as he thinks about what his best friend is going through right now.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, hating that I put that look on his face.

Here he was trying to cheer me up and look at what I did.

“It’s okay, Doll. Really,” he assures me, spotting the remote hiding under one of the cushions and rewinding the movie back to the beginning.

“You know all the words to this, don’t you?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Umm… maybe,” I whisper as it starts over.

“Good. Don’t hold back. Pretend I’m Kristie.”

“Dude, you’re a six-foot-four man. I have no chance of pretending you’re a little four-year-old girl.”

“Well, try. I want to give you the full experience of what you’re trying to recreate here.”

“Mav,” I breathe, getting all emotional again.

“Shhh… It’s starting.”

He keeps his eyes on the screen as the movie starts to play. But I don’t pay attention. I mean, I’ve seen it hundreds of times before, but right now, he’s more captivating than any movie that could be playing.

“Doll, you’re meant to be watching this.”

“I know,” I murmur. “Sorry.”

He turns to me, his eyes hard and determined. “What have I said, you never ever have to be sorry about anything.”

I swallow thickly, trying to force the lump from my throat, but it’s pointless.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Anything, Doll. Anything.”

43

JD

Icome to with my head pounding and memories from the night before playing on repeat, ensuring my semi goes full mast.

Without opening my eyes, I slide my hand across the bed, searching for my little dove.