Savage Little Lies by Eden O’Neill

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Dorian

Wolf sat completely still while I spoke, and when I finished, he moved even less. I honest to fuck was surprised he’d even come over after I’d called him. I’d screwed up, and he’d been right.

He’d been right about everything.

I had been blind. I’d been foolish, and I’d pushed in all the wrong places. I’d pushed at him and…

“Ares?”

My buddy looked up after I spoke, and I fought myself from cringing. I’d done that to his face, the side completely bruised. I swallowed. “I need your help.” And it was the hardest ask I could have probably ever made. I didn’t deserve his help, and I definitely didn’t deserve Sloane. I’d betrayed her as much as I had him. I put my hands together. “You have to help me. She trusts him, and I don’t know what to do.”

My grandfather had her, and I was at a complete loss.

Wolf rubbed his hands after what I said, eyeing the floor. He got up and placed an arm on one of my bookshelves. I had them lining my bedroom, reading something I liked to do outside of football, though I never preached that shit. He tapped the shelf. “He’s not the only one she trusts,” he said, frowning. “And if your grandfather is bullshitting as much as you think, we might need that.”

I got up, coming over to him.

“We need to call Wells and Thatcher,” he said, nodding. “And once they get here, I think we may be able to figure out how to use that trust.” He lifted a hand. “She trusts me, D. Sloane does.”

I blinked. “How?”

He looked away, picking at the shelf. He dropped his arm. “It all has to do with that project I told you about.” His expression turned serious. “I never lied, Dorian. I’ve always had your back.”

I could see that now, more and more I was seeing things. I swallowed. “I’m so sorry, man.”

I didn’t have the words, and he shouldn’t want to help me. Like I said, I didn’t deserve it, but that might not matter.

We were brothers.

The guy would probably do much more than this for me, and I knew even if he had betrayed me, I would have come running had he needed me. Our bond was deeper than even a falling out. It was deeper than betrayal. It was so much tougher than blood, and my grandfather would never understand that. My father had the same with his friends.

“We need Wells and Thatcher here,” Wolf returned, and though he hadn’t acknowledged what I said, I didn’t think he had to. That was just us. No malice when there were more important things. “We all need to be here, and once they are, I can explain things better. Things with Sloane and what’s been going on while you’ve been gone.”

It seemed like a lot, but one thing I wasn’t doing this time was closing my ears. I was listening. My grandfather wouldn’t fuck with me again.

And he wasn’t going to get her.