Page 26 of Petals of Blue, Part One (Wilted Duet #1)

Twenty-One

BLUE

Serpent’s Kiss is not a hangout spot. We're a club meant for alcohol and dancing. There's rarely anyone at the bar for more than five minutes.

Declan got the alcohol part right. Or wrong however you want to look at it. I'm not sure where he found the stool he's sitting on. He's kept his slice of the bar clean by being slumped over on it.

He was already way too wasted to hold a conversation by the time I got here. My shift was later tonight, and the bartender I replaced a half hour ago warned me about the drunk guy in the corner before she left.

Low and behold, it's Declan.

I've ignored him as best as I can considering the hair on the back of my neck has been standing on end since I got here. Every time I glance over at him, his face is still in his arms. Why does it feel like someone's watching me?

"Should we check on him? You know, make sure he's alive?" Bethany worries beside me as we make a line of jack-and-cokes.

"He's fine."

"But," she glances at him again, "what if he's not?"

Declan is clearly not fine, but I'm sure he's alive. Spiraling maybe, but breathing, I bet. I could wake him and urge him to go home so I can have a peaceful shift. Yeah, that sounds nice.

Since I wasn't ready to explain the guys to Violet, I skipped having dinner with her. I'm slightly on edge still, so maybe getting him out of here will calm me down enough to zone out.

The perk of being a bartender, similar to that of a barista, is I can lose myself in making the drinks. My mind shuts off, and my body goes into autopilot mode.

Right now, I could really use that. My brain is exhausted. I can't stop scolding myself for sitting at that damn breakfast table with them this morning. I knew I'd get hurt, but it just wasn't the way I assumed.

Declan and Felix? I never saw that coming.

With a sigh, I put a finger up, asking the customers to give me a second. A few grumble, but I've heard much worse. Working in customer support requires a backbone. And a steel water bottle sometimes.

"Declan," I urge once I'm in front of his sleeping body. No response. I really don't want to touch him. "Declan." Still nothing. Cursing, I reach my hand out and shake his shoulder even though I'd rather yank on his dark hair. "Dec—"

"AH!" he startles, jumping back and knocking over a drink beside him.

"Shit!" I hiss, reaching for the glass, but I'm caught looking guilty by a large man who turns around looking ready to murder me. Declan is shoved behind the wall of muscle glaring down at me.

Hastily, I start sliding the ice cubes toward me so they don't spill on the angry guy. I'm too late. The side of his shirt is drenched.

"You fucking bitch!" the stranger slurs and snatches my right wrist. He proceeds to yank me across the bar top, slamming my hips into the hard edge.

I gasp as he shouts at me for ruining his white shirt. Dread and something akin to a post-traumatic stress response stab my consciousness over and over again.

So many times I was at the mercy of men bigger than me. I got through those times with nothing but motivation to be there for Violet. Circumstances are different now, though. She's older. An adult. V doesn't need me anymore.

In the face of an angry drunk, I realize just how tired of fighting I really am. What is it about me that screams hurt me?

I know how to defend myself, and I'm damn good at it. In the position this guy has me in, with my body bent forward and my toes straining to stay on the ground, I feel vulnerable and weak.

Again.

My hand being slammed into the hard surface snaps me out of my thoughts long enough for the panic to steal the breath from my lungs. Blood rushes through my ears in response to the blooming ache in my wrist and hand.

"Are you even listening, cunt?!" Spit hits my forehead like a cold shower. This motherfucker. I pull back, but he barely budges. There's shouting around me and more hands reaching for my arm as I run through all the self-defense techniques Levi has taught me over the years.

It turns out I don't need to rescue myself this time. And it's not my friends who save me either.

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY WOMAN!"

The rush of relief that cools my veins when I hear Felix's order is stronger than when the unwanted touch of this beast is ripped away.

Flying back, I almost miss the punch Felix lands on the asshole’s nose. Thankfully, I get to see the blood splatter and security descending on my assailant before I fall right on my ass.

My tailbone screams in response, making me hiss out a pained breath as I tense to keep my head from snapping back too.

"Oh my god!" Bethany screeches, coming to kneel beside me.

The ground is wet. My right hand and wrist are throbbing along with the ache in my hip bones and ass. I groan, clutching my injured extremity to my shuddering chest.

"Shit shit shit! Are you okay!?" Janine looks scared which sets me even more on edge. She doesn't wait for my response before grabbing my elbow to pull me up. I follow, albeit reluctantly, because I'd rather not see all the stares right now.

Shit happens when you work in an environment like ours. It's not the first time I've gotten hurt on the job or been called names, and it won't be the last. Which is part of the reason why I'd rather manage security because if I were in charge, the bar would always be staffed with security too.

I'm too busy rummaging through my scattered thoughts to realize where Janine is taking me until I'm ushered into the employee lounge with Beth rushing in after us. I groan, knowing I'm in for some of Bethany's pampering.

My poor bestie is going to worry about me for the next week. Janine all but shoves me onto the leather couch to assess me.

"I'm fine," I rush out as Bethany flings herself in my direction. Her blonde ringlets are in disarray, and her hands flutter over me like I'm breakable or some shit. "Beth, breathe!"

"ME?!" Bethany fucking screeches. "You're already swelling, Blue! You need ice!"

Shit, she's right. Is it sprained? It can't be broken, but it is worse than when I pushed Declan. I wouldn't be able to move it if it were sprained, right?

"I've got some," a masculine voice interrupts our panic. Felix's worry makes me stiffen. I can't break. Can't panic. Not in front of him. "Blue?" he murmurs, his strong frame replacing Bethany's lithe one.

Where's Janine?

"What the hell are you doing here, jackass?"

Ah, there she is. The security of knowing my hard ass friend will ensure my safety helps me relax back into the couch. My frown begins to fade. Sleepiness makes my vision turn fuzzy around the edges, but I can't not focus on Felix.

His blond scruff is trimmed to perfection with his messy, dirty blond hair to contrast. The lines between his brows worry me, because there's no reason he should look this upset right now. I don't think I can handle his kindness.

What does that say about me that I'd rather have his cruelty than his care?

Trick question because I have the answer.

I'm a whole lot jaded and tremendously fucking sad. I can't shake the exhausting loop of wondering why over and over again?

So yeah. Maybe now, after everything and all the hurts, I'd rather Felix call me a weak ass bitch than look at me the way he is now. The pain and longing in his eyes awaken the vulnerability I've stashed away in the recesses of my soul.

He's coaxing out lip wobbles one frown at a time.