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Thirty-eight
Patrick
I watch Cari and Conner bolt through the bar—Conner’s long-legged stride full of purpose, while Cari chased after him, scrambling to keep up. I watch, customers shouting drink orders, while she follows him down the hall, headed toward the bathrooms.
Something ugly flared in my chest. Just as quickly, I put a lid on it.
Con is not taking Cari to the bathroom. Cari would never do that. Neither would he. While he’s not above fucking another guy’s girl, he’d never do that to me and she wouldn’t either.
Something else is going on.
I want to follow them, but I can’t leave Logan alone behind the bar. We’re barely keeping up with shit as it is. If I bolt, he’ll be in the weeds in a matter of seconds. Like he’s reading my mind, he shouts my name, and I look up to see him looking at me from the other end of the bar.
“You need to get that?” he says, jerking his chin in the direction Con and Cari disappeared. “I can hold it down for a minute or two.”
I shake my head, shoveling ice into glasses. We’re got four shotgirls circulating with trays of pre-poured shots to alleviate some of the pressure, in addition to our usual cocktail waitresses, but it’s hardly making a dent. The bar front is swamped. Because thanks to that goddamned magazine article, it’s me they’re here to see. “Nah, it’s fine,” I shout back, building a round of Long Islands.
Whatever is going on, Con and Cari can handle it.
That doesn’t stop me from wondering though. I fly on auto-pilot, slinging drinks and mopping up slips. Just when I’m about to say fuck it and hop the bar, the front door flies open and Tess barrels in, shoving her way through the tight throng of people, heading for the bar.
A shell-shocked Declan is hot on her heels.
Tess fights her way behind the bar, jerking her arm out of Dec’s grip every couple of steps. “I’m sorry, Tess.” He reaches for her again.
She pulls away from him and shouts, “Fuck you!”
Rinse. Repeat.
It’d be comical if there wasn’t a small, red welt on his chin and Tess didn’t look like she was on the verge of tears. She barrels past me, and I step in front of Declan, barring him from grabbing her again.
“Get the fuck out of my way,” he snarls at me, wounded gaze following Tess down the length of the bar. A muscle in his jaw twitches, flashing dots of white at the top of the scarlet welt on his face. Four of them. In the shape of a fist.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened.
I plant my feet. “Not happening,” I say shaking my head. “Go home, Declan.”
Behind me, Tess opens her mouth and tosses a can of gas on top of a raging fire. “Hey, new guy—want to go to a wedding with me?”
Declan goes still. For a second, I’m not even sure he’s breathing. “Tesla.” He says her name softly but everyone within listening range heard it for what it was.
A warning.
I don’t look at them—I don’t dare—but I can tell from the silence that follows her question, Logan is just as confused by what’s happening as I am. Behind Declan, I see Con and Cari push their way through the crowd. Con looks like he’s ready to rip his brother’s throat out.
Behind me, Logan answers her. “I’d love to.”
Shit.
In front of me, Declan lunges, and I throw my hands up to stop him. “Go home, Declan,” I say quietly.
“Fuck you,” he growls at me, gaze nailed to whatever is happening behind me.
“Get the fuck out of my bar.” I snarl back.
It’s not the first time I’ve said it, but it’s the first time I’ve meant it.
My bar.