Free Make Me: A Broke and Beautiful Novel by Tessa Bailey

sending Abby’s stomach dropping to the floor.
    “W-why would Russell know?” Just saying his name made her lips feel numb. When Honey and Roxy sent each other an unreadable look, Abby frowned. “What?”
    “Nothing,” Honey said. “It’s just . . . you two are close. And you know how Russell is . . . he’s protective about you.”
    “He would flip out, is what Honey’s trying to say.”
    “That’s not true.” Especially now. After she’d deceived him into giving her an orgasm while he hadn’t been fully conscious then let her know that he had no desire for a physical relationship with her. Roxy and Honey were right about Russell’s being protective, though. She thought of the way he’d carried her to the fireworks, how he always checked her window locks and killed spiders for her. How whenever the girls went out alone, he lectured her about not leaving her drink unattended. How he insisted on a clear, concise text message the second they walked into the apartment. Russell really was a good friend, and she’d lost sight of that in favor of physical release. No wonder she hadn’t heard from him in two days. Somehow, starting tomorrow, she would repair this. She wasn’t willing to lose him as a friend because of some silly, fleeting crush.
    Even though it didn’t feel like a simple crush. Not like the ones she’d had before on classmates or tutors. Crushes didn’t make you shiver straight down to your private parts at the mere thought of their names. A crush didn’t make you slap your own bottom late at night, trying to re-create the same wicked hot sensation he had made you feel with that one, beautiful strike, to no avail.
    “You’re thinking awfully hard over there.” Honey looked almost hopeful. How odd. “Come to any conclusions?”
    “Yeah.” Abby smiled. “You were both right.”
    Roxy gathered her hands beneath her chin, eyes widening. “We were?”
    “Yup. I need some sleep.” Feeling better after having revealed her secret and having a plan to make Russell forgive her, Abby headed for the bedroom. “G’night.”

 
    Chapter 7
    U SING POWE R TOOLS was probably the worst way to celebrate a hangover, but since Russell had been in this condition three days and counting, it was no longer a viable excuse. Mother Nature had sent rain New York City’s way, so he and Alec had weatherproofed the Manhattan worksite that morning, giving him the remaining daylight hours to work on the Queens house.
    Russell leaned over his worktable and noted a measurement, then checked his watch. Two fifteen. Jesus, he’d thought—hoped—it was later. Time seemed to be moving so slowly, creeping past like a slug after a storm. Or maybe that was him. The slug who was avoiding Abby. They hadn’t spoken in three days—not so much as a text message—which was highly unusual for them. How was her ankle? Did she hate him? Enough never to fall asleep on him again?
    Hoping to distract himself from the endless cycle of thoughts, Russell pushed away from the table and surveyed the room. He’d made some serious progress in the space of a year, since his father had moved to California, leaving their family home and the memories it represented behind. Since Alec was content to continue renting indefinitely, Russell had commenced renovations of the house, with the understanding that he would live there once they were completed. Funny, he’d never envisioned himself living in a house, but recently, fixing up the place had absorbed a huge chunk of his spare time. He’d gutted most of the rooms, put in new insulation and drywall, gotten crucial deals through loyal Hart Brothers Construction suppliers on new windows, roofing supplies, and lumber. It had taken some hustling to make it all come together, but seeing what his hard work had yielded, damn if he wasn’t a little . . . proud.
    Russell snorted at the hokey direction of his thoughts, reminding himself that a two-story pile of bricks in Queens was nothing