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Thirty-seven
Conner
“What’s wrong with you?”
It’s the same question Tess asked me yesterday, and I try not to let it irritate me, but to be honest, everything about Declan is irritating me tonight, even more than usual. His voice, his face. Even the way he scoops ice makes me want to punch him in the mouth.
I know why. It’s because of Henley. The fact that she’s come home. I’ve blamed him for the way things happened between us for a long time. The way he made it his mission to pull us apart. After she left, I pretended to let it go, but really, I just let it fester, along with everything else that he did that summer.
I can’t say that things would’ve been different if he hadn’t been such a dick, but I know for a fucking fact that it didn’t help matters any.
Having Henley home just brings it all to the surface.
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” I mutter, jerking on the taps so hard, I’m surprised I don’t snap it off. I made Patrick switch stations with me a while ago. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” he says, keeping his tone conversational. “But I’m not the one fuckin’ up everybody’s rotation.”
I flip the tap and set the pitcher down on the tray, along with a stack of frosted pints. “What the hell are you talking about?” I can feel my irrigation double. I was on time. I’m behind the bar, pulling my weight. What more does he expect?
“You’ve been here almost four hours, and you haven’t Gilroyed anyone,” Cap’n says, leaning over to grab a tray of clean glasses out of the automatic washer he had installed a few weeks ago. “It’s freaking him out.”
Friday nights have settled into a routine. It’s the night all of us are behind the bar. Patrick and Declan handle happy hour with me waltzing in at eight to pick up the slack. Usually, picking up the slack means busting up fights—or starting them—and trolling for chicks. It’s September, the first Friday after the start of fall semester, usually, my favorite night of the year. It’s like Christmas, my birthday and New Year’s Eve, all rolled into one.
This place is teeming with fresh-faced co-eds that have never heard of Conner Gilroy. Cap’n’s right, by all rights, I should have one of them bent over a bathroom sink right now.
Right now, I can’t even make eye contact with anything sporting a set of double X chromosomes.
“I’m not freaked out,” Dec grumbles while angling a bottle of Jameson over a row of rocks glasses. “I’m wondering what the hell—” He stops talking, suddenly focused on the round of drinks he’s building for the knot of college bros on the other side of the bar.
That means Tess just walked in.
It bothers me that he watches out for her. That he thinks he has the right to even look at her after what he did to her. I know it shouldn’t. That it’s none of my business, but I can’t help it. I’m protective of her. Probably too protective but it’s not like I can just shut that shit off. Maybe it’ll even out once he and Jessica get married. Maybe I won’t feel like I have to guard Tess like a rabid pitbull.
Maybe.
But I doubt it.
Because whether he wants to admit it or not, my brother is still in love with her.
“What’s up, bitch?” Tess calls out to me above the din. As soon as she speaks, it’s like a spell has been broken. Declan snaps out of it and moves away from me, looking like a puppy who got caught pissing on its owner’s favorite rug. For a second I let myself feel sorry for him, but only for a second. He did this to himself. I’m not generally in the habit of feeling sorry for stupid people.
Pushing big brother out of my mind, I look over, forcing a grin onto my face. Before I can say anything, Cap’n leans over and whispers in her ear. “We’re pretty sure his dick is broken—he’s been here three and a half hours and not one Gilroy.”
Tess laughs like she’s supposed to, but she’s also looking at me like she feels sorry for me. Like she knows exactly what I did, and how fucked up I really am over it. As soon as Patrick hustled down the bar, she speaks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?” It’s a stupid question, but I use it to buy myself some time.
“You know what.” She looks scared. Like she wants to slap me. “Why didn’t you tell me that the whale sitting in your office was Henley fucking O’Connell?”
I shrug. “What was I supposed to say—Hey, guess what? Henley’s in town—also, I accidentally fucked her last night. Whoops.”
“Yeah,” she says, planting her hands on her hips, chin tipped up so she can glare at me. “You could’ve started with that and ended with—Oh, and by the way, that’s her in my office.”
“How did you recognize her?” It’s a dumb question one that really doesn’t matter, but I still want to know. I’m still trying to convince myself that I didn’t know who she was when a fucked her last night. As it stands, I’m fighting a losing battle.
“I saw her standing in front of her old apartment building this afternoon, and I don’t know…” Tess shakes her head. “It just clicked. I just saw her.” Now she looks at me, worry etched plainly on her face. “Did you know it was her? You know, before you…” She knows me better than anyone. She knows how potentially disastrous Henley’s coming back can be for me. How hard it was for me last time she left.
“No.” I’m beginning to suspect it’s a lie, but I tell it anyway because saying it is easier than accepting the truth.