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“Stay out of this, Conner,” Dec says quietly, barely sparing his brother a glance before re-focusing on Tess. “Please.”
It’s a few seconds before Tess nudges me with her knee, and I slide out of the booth, Declan stepping back to give me room. He looks wrecked. 3-day beard. Sunken eyes. Dark circles. Like he hasn’t slept in days. Tess grabs the invitation off the table and slides across the seat behind me before pushing her way through the crowded bar, trailing Declan in her wake.
As soon as they’re gone, Conner pushes his way after them.
Shit.
I follow him. I’m not sure what I’m going to do, but I follow anyway.
Just when I think I’m going to have to jump on Con’s back to keep him from following them all the way outside, I realize he’s bypassing the front door completely. He’s heading for the back office.
Keying the lock, he pushes his way in, leaving the door open, his only concession to the fact that I’m following him.
“So, they’re actually talking to each other now?” I say from the doorway, still not understanding what we’re doing in here.
The automatic lights click on a second before Conner lowers himself into the chair. “You’ve been gone for almost a year—shit didn’t just stand still, waiting for you to trot your ass home.”
Another jab. Another reminder that Patrick isn’t the only person I left when I went back to Ohio. “But why wouldn’t Tess tell me—”
“Get your ass, over here, Legs,” he says, jiggling the mouse on its pad to wake up the computer. “You’re gonna miss the show.”
By the time I round the desk, his fingers are flying over the keys. A second later, the large screen is split into several different panels, each of them showing a different camera angle of the interior and exterior of the bar. Clicking on one of the windows, its camera view fills the screen pulling Declan and Tess into sharp and sudden focus.
Con uses the mouse to shift the angle of the camera until he can see both of their faces.
“I never wanted this,” he says, his voice oddly void of emotion. “I never wanted any of this.”
“Really,” Con says. “That’s funny because this—every bit of it—is your doing.”
I look from Con to the screen and back again. It takes a second for me to realize what he’s doing.
“Are you reading their lips?”
“You’re being unfair, Tes—”
“Am I? You’re fiance stopped by the garage today.” On the screen, Tess holds up the envelope. “How’s that for—unfucking—fair?”
“I know. That’s why I’m here. I don’t—you don’t have to—” Declan swipes a hand over his face before holding it out to Tess. “I’m sorry. Just give it to me.” He drops his hand when she shakes her head at him. Please, Tess… just give it to me. I’ll tell her you can’t make it.”
I’m feeling increasingly uncomfortable. We should not be watching this. We shouldn’t be listening. “This is wrong,” I tell him. “We shouldn’t be—”
“He knocked her up,” he says in a hard, emotionless tone, his eyes never leaving the screen. “He got her pregnant and fucking abandoned her. She had no one. No one.”
I shake my head. “But—”
“She lost the baby. She went through it alone while he went on with his goddamned life like nothing ever happened. Like she was nothing. He doesn’t get to hurt her again. Not ever.” He flicks me a glare. “Now, shut the fuck up or get the fuck out.”
I think of the way I prattled on this afternoon about Grace and Molly. What a blessing Molly is. How lucky we were to have her. How strong Grace was for raising her alone. The way Tess looked like she’d been stabbed in the chest. Like she was bleeding out right in front of me.
I turn away from the camera but I don’t leave. Instead, I sit on the desk and place a hand on Con’s shoulder. He’s tense. The muscles under my hand are shaking like it’s taking everything he has to stay in his chair. He watches the screen intently, eyes flicking over the images in front of him but he doesn’t narrate for me anymore. Probably because he knows I’m right.
“Let’s go,” I say to him, my fingers tightening around his shoulder. “Patrick’s probably wondering what the hell—”
“MOTHERFUCKER!” he roars, shoulder snapping tight under my hand an instant before he lunges up and out of his chair. He looks poised to run, but his eyes are fixed on the screen like he can’t look away.
I turn, letting my gaze fall to the screen and my mouth falls open.
Declan’s got his hands clamped around Tess’s arms, lifting and crushing her against him. He’s kissing her.
And she’s kissing him back.
Before that fact can register, Tess is tearing herself away from him, eyes wide, twisting out of his grip even as her fist comes up and catches him square in the jaw.
Declan’s head jerks back but he shakes it off, unmoved by the assault, so she plants her hands on his chest and shoves him back, putting space between them. When he finally lets her go, he looks just as stunned as she does.