“Jake and Becca are our best friends, though. Wyatt’s my brother—it’s a little hard not to care.”

I get what she’s saying. It’s tough when you care about the people involved, but at the same time, it’s not our battle. Until Becca’s honest with herself, nothing’s going to change. Which is why I’m thankful I have a girl who knows what she wants. It’s easy with her—I never have to doubt her feelings or get confused about my own. When I see her, I just know. “Not everyone has it figured out the way we do.”

“I like what we have.”

“Me too, Sunny.”

“You’re not even a little freaked out about what I said earlier?”

I think back to the moment she told me she loved me. It was genuine although completely unexpected—even for her. “I’ve never told anyone I loved them before.”

“Me either, except for my family.”

“You don’t want to take it back?” I give her a chance to think it over. To be one hundred percent sure she meant to say what she did, even if there’s not a chance I’ll ever forget the moment she told me she loved me for the first time.

“I meant it. I love you, Rhett. Completely.”

Again, it’s like a sucker punch to the gut. “Jesus, Sunny. You have no idea how much that means to me.” I run my fingers over her soft skin, pulling her as close as I can. “I love you so much.”

Her stomach growls in response, making us both laugh. With all the craziness, we never got a chance to eat the pizza she ordered. “Sorry,” she says, as she holds her stomach. “That’s not very romantic.”

“Don’t be sorry you’re hungry. Go get some pizza. I’m going to call home quick and then I’ll be out.”

She climbs over me, not waiting until I get up. “Ugh, watch your knees, babe.”

“Sorry,” she giggles. “Come get some pizza when you’re done and tell you parents I said hi. If you’re telling them I’m with you.”

“Of course I’m telling them I’m with you. Where else would I be?”

“I don’t know. Probably at the party with the rest of your team. Are you going to let me up?”

She’s still straddling me with her ice pack in her hand. “If I have to.”

“You have to, but we can come back to bed.”

“Promise?”

She smiles, sweetly, puffy eye and all. “Promise.”

I’M FINALLY ABOUT to eat some dinner when the front door opens and Carson walks inside. He sets his keys on the table next to the door, and takes a look around the living room. Nobody bothered to clean up the spilled drinks or pick up the magazines that flew off the coffee table during the fight.

Taking one look at it, he stares at me awkwardly while I’m in the middle of adjusting the ice on my eye. “What the hell happened in here?”

All I want to do is eat my pizza, but Carson isn’t going to let this go until he hears the whole story. It’s just the way he is. “There was a fight.”

“I got that much from the living room, but what happened to your face?”

I set my ice pack on the counter, letting him see the damage that’s been done. “Probably looks worse than it is.”

Carson stalks over to where I’m standing, bending to inspect my eye. “It’s definitely something, Kinsley. How did it happen?”

I move away from the counter, taking my usual stool at the island. “It was an accident. Nobody’s fault but my own.”

“Who did it?” he asks, again.

“Just drop it, Carson. It’s over and done with. I’m starving and it’s been a long night.”

He stares at me, silently scowling until he hears Rhett’s voice coming from my room. Before I can stop him, he takes off, obviously connecting the wrong dots. None of this has anything to do with Rhett, and he’s about to place blame on the wrong person.

Here we go again.

I run after him, pleading with him to stop so I can explain, but Carson’s already in Rhett’s face, asking him to explain my bruises. Rhett doesn’t feed into his anger at first, but as soon as Carson swings at his face, Rhett tosses his cell phone on the bed. “Back up,” he warns, but Carson doesn’t listen. Instead, he lunges toward Rhett, trying to knock him to the floor. But this time, Rhett’s ready for his advance and fights back.

“Stop it! Carson, it wasn’t Rhett’s fault,” I plead.

“Don’t make excuses for him, Kins. He screwed up the second he put his hands on you.”

That’s all it takes for Rhett to see red. A look of pure rage erupts on his face the moment he realizes Carson thinks he hit me. The second brawl of the night breaks out. It wasn’t enough for Jake and Wyatt to go after each other over Becca, now I have Rhett and Carson fighting over me. Only this time, I don’t try to get in between them—I run for my brother instead.

“Wyatt,” I yell down the hall. “Wyatt!”

His bedroom door flies open, and he runs toward me in a panic, wondering why I’m screaming for him. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

I point toward my room. “Stop them, please!”

Punches fly all around us, but Wyatt jumps in to break up the fight. He yanks Carson by the back of his shirt, practically throwing him against the closet door. Rhett backs off on his own, and doesn’t need to be stopped. This was all Carson’s doing. He’s the one with an agenda—not Rhett.

Rhett wipes some blood off the corner of his mouth, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath. I grab a tissue from the box on my desk, handing it to him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. What’s his problem?”

“My problem?” Carson questions, like a total smartass. “You’re the one banging around your girlfriend,” he spits back.

It’s like a game of tennis, my head bouncing from side to side as they volley insults back and forth. Carson has this all wrong, but I’m afraid to say anything until he calms down.

Thankfully, my brother steps up, setting the record straight. “Carson, chill man. I got in a fight with Jake, she caught an elbow trying to break us up. It wasn’t Rhett’s fault.”

Carson gapes at him like he’s lost his mind. For a minute it looks like he’s about to charge my brother to give him the same attention he just showed Rhett, but Wyatt shakes his head, letting him know it would be the wrong move to make.

I step forward now that everyone’s under control. Reaching for Carson’s hand, I ask, “Can I talk to you in your room for a minute?”

His eyes finally soften when he hears my voice. With a small nod of his head, he says, “Sure,” but he doesn’t leave the room peacefully. Even though Wyatt already made a point of saying Rhett wasn’t responsible, it doesn’t stop Carson from nudging his shoulder as he walks by him—only pissing Rhett off more.

“That wasn’t necessary,” I whisper to him. When I look over my shoulder, hurt momentarily flashes through Rhett’s eyes as he watches me leave the room with Carson. The last thing I want is for him to be upset with me, but I need to have this conversation whether he’s okay with it or not.

Carson sits on the bed beside me, cracking his knuckles and flexing his fingers. “What’s going on, Kins?”

“Please don’t ever do that again. Tonight’s been one giant mess since we got home from the game.”

“Fine,” he responds, stubbornly.

“Carson, if I was in trouble, if Rhett ever hurt me, you’re the one I would run to.”

“What about Wyatt?”

“My brother would always support me, but he’s living his own life at school. You took his place because he felt like you’d handle the job of protector. That’s what you were doing tonight when you fought Rhett—protecting me. Even though you had the facts wrong.”

“You’re not mad I punched your boyfriend?”

“Yes, but you did it with the right intentions. I can’t get mad at you for trying to keep me safe.”

“You’re mad, but you’re not. Makes complete sense.”