Out of Mind (Out of Line #3)(9)
Author: Jen McLaughlin

I’d gone through hell and back to keep her at my side.

I wouldn’t…no, I couldn’t lose her.

A car pulled up, and I narrowed my eyes. It wasn’t Carrie or her parents. They were out getting a Christmas tree. They’d waited till the last minute since Carrie hadn’t been home to go with them until a few days ago. I’d stayed behind because walking around in the freezing cold with an aching arm while the senator frowned at me wasn’t the best thing for me. Carrie had tried to stay behind but I’d insisted she go.

She needed to spend time with them before we went home. Needed to feel normal as badly as I did. I knew it, so I made her leave by telling her I wanted to nap.

I had. Then I’d had a nightmare. Go f**king figure.

The red Porsche parked at the front, but I couldn’t see who got out of it. I made my way over to the front door just in time for the butler to open it. “They’re not at home, Mr. Stapleton.”

“I know. Carrie texted me and told me, but I thought I’d stop by and wait.” He laughed. “She told me she wouldn’t be much longer because they’re freezing outside.”

“Ah, well, come in. You can wait in the family living room, if you’d like.”

I stood in the shadows, waiting to see who the f**k this was. Carrie had been texting him, but I didn’t know a single thing about him. “Thank you, George.”

He knew the butler’s name?

“Can I get you a cocktail?” George asked.

Another laugh. “I’d love a whiskey, if you don’t mind.”

I stepped closer. There was a shuffling sound, and then a tall blond guy stepped through the door. He was handsome, had bright green eyes, and was wearing an impeccable blue sweater and a pair of khakis. He looked…fucking perfect, damn it.

He was everything I wasn’t right now. Who the hell was he?

He pulled off his scarf and kept talking to George, but I didn’t hear a word. I was too busy trying not to be jealous of a guy I didn’t even know. He laughed and turned my way…and the smile faded. He looked me up and down, concern clear in his eyes. I knew I looked like hell. I knew I was a wreck. But seeing him looking at me as if he felt sorry for me?

Fuck no. Not happening.

“Hi,” he said, hesitating. He crossed the room and held out his hand, offering me his non-dominant hand since he knew I couldn’t use my broken arm. How thoughtful of him. “I’m Riley. You must be Griffin, right?”

Son of a bitch, he was nice, too.

I knew right away, within seconds of eye contact, that while this guy was rich, he was not another Cory. This guy was kind and seemed to be a guy that even I could like, under different circumstances. In fact, even I had to admit he was the perfect guy for Carrie…

If it wasn’t for me being in the way.

“It’s Finn,” I managed to say without my voice cracking. I set my mostly empty coffee mug down on the side table and shook his hand, not dropping his stare. He was sizing me up, and I had a feeling he’d find me lacking. So I stared right the f**k back. I wasn’t one to back down, even when I was clearly the one who lost this battle. My mind was not whole, and neither was my body. “And you are…?”

“Riley Stapleton.” He was a little shorter than me, but not by much, and he was strong. His grip didn’t relax on mine at all, even though I didn’t let go of him as quickly as I should have. “I’m a friend of Carrie’s, and our dads are political affiliates.”

I nodded and released him. He watched me with bright green eyes. His flawless skin and impeccably styled hair made me run a hand over my own roughly shaved head, ending up on my long, jagged cut. “I’ve never heard of you.”

He smiled easily. “It’s not too surprising. I didn’t really become friends with Carrie till the holiday party. And after that, she left and stayed with you. We’ve only been talking via text and phone.” He nodded toward my arm, his eyes warm and compassionate. “I hear you’re doing better?”

“Oh yeah. Much.” I looked him up and down, trying to dislike him on principle, but failing. He genuinely seemed to care. Un-fucking-believable. “So you were there when the call came in about me?”

“I was.”

I flinched. “How bad was it?”

“It was pretty bad,” Riley admitted, laughing lightly before motioning me into the living room. “Please. Let’s sit. I don’t want to tire you. Carrie would be angry with me.”

Tire me? What was I, a f**king baby? “I’m fine.”

“Still. Let’s sit.”

Damn it, I should have been the one to invite him to sit, since I kinda sorta lived here. I should have been polite and mannerly, and invited him inside. Instead, I’d questioned him in the foyer like a dickhead. I led him into the opulent room, hovering by the couch awkwardly while Riley seated himself. I sat beside him, letting my broken arm rest against my chest, and gripped my knee with my hand.

George came in with two glasses of whiskey and set them in front of us. He left the bottle behind and I knew it was because of me. One drink wouldn’t hurt, would it? I eyed it, knowing I wanted it way too badly and unable to stop myself from picking it up. I drained it in one gulp, turning to Riley with more confidence. I wasn’t used to this feeling. It f**king sucked.

I felt inferior and incompetent in the face of such perfection.

“So.” I looked at him again. He’d been watching me drink. When I met his eyes, he quickly looked away and picked up his own whiskey. “You’re a friend of Carrie’s, huh?”

“I am.” Riley’s hand tightened on his crystal glass. “You don’t need to worry about me, man. I’m not after her or anything.”

I blinked at him. “I never said you were.”

“I just wanted to make that clear. I mean, she’s a great girl, and you’re a lucky guy.” Riley looked down at his drink and shrugged. “But anyone with eyes can see she loves you, and I’ve never come between a guy and a girl before. I won’t be starting now.”

“You don’t get why she loves me though, right?” I poured more whiskey with a trembling hand. “You don’t understand why we work.”

Riley let out an uneasy laugh. “I get it perfectly fine.” Riley reclined against the couch and watched me. I half expected to see criticism in his eyes. Or judgment. There wasn’t, damn it. “You seem like a good guy. Why would I question that?”