Chapter Thirty-Two
MATT
THEN—ONE YEAR AGO
AUGUST
I take a sip of my whiskey, licking my lips as I set the glass down on the bar top.
The place is packed—live music playing way too loud, sports highlights flashing on every screen, and way too many damn people.
Guys night was Jensen’s idea, since Alley went to dinner with Scarlett. I figured we’d have a few drinks, catch up, unwind. But instead, I can’t stop watching him, and not in a good way. We’ve only been here twenty minutes, but something feels… off.
Jensen can’t seem to sit still. He’s twitchy, jittery, unfocused.
It’s almost like he’s tweaking. I’ve seen it before, in college, sophomore year, when Tyler couldn’t stop popping Percs.
The exact same energy—not to mention, Jordan’s dad was an addict.
He spent her entire trust fund on gambling and drugs by the time she’d turned eighteen.
I don’t know what the fuck he’s been taking, but Jesus, he’s on something. He’s acting like a complete wack-job.
I watch his toes bounce against the bar stool, his fingers tapping like he’s Beethoven pounding out a fucking masterpiece, right here at the bar. Don’t even get me started on the fact that he hasn’t heard a goddamn word I’ve said.
He swipes a bead of sweat off his forehead, glancing down at his phone for the fiftieth time since we sat down.
Jesus Christ.
“Everything good, man?” I ask, trying to keep my cool—because what the fuck?
“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, Alley was texting.”
He doesn’t make eye contact. It’s not the first time he’s acted off these past few months. And even though Alley swears everything’s fine at home, I know better. I’m not stupid.
I know Jensen. Hell, I’d bet I know him better than she does. Sure, she’s got me beat on the intimate stuff. But all the other parts of him? I fucking know this guy. And he hasn’t been himself for a while now.
Jensen’s fingers tap against his screen.
This alone isn’t like him. Sure, he’s a social guy, but he’s also the type to give you his undivided attention when he’s with you.
And Alley’s not the type to blow up his phone while she’s out with Scarlett.
She’s never been needy like that—unless something’s wrong.
“You sure?” I ask.
He doesn’t even hear me.
“Jensen,” I say, louder this time.
His head snaps up.
“What the fuck, dude? You’re distracted as hell. You got something you need to take care of? Because I didn’t come here to watch you text all night.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry. You’re right.” He flips his phone face down, finally looking at me—well, almost. His eyes never fully meet mine, they look past me. Toward the door.
I glance over my shoulder to see what’s got his attention.
Fucking Seth.
Seth makes eye contact, surprised, and starts heading our way.
“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath as he approaches.
“Jensen, Matt! How the hell are you guys?” He slaps me on the back like we’re old buddies. I can’t stand the guy.
Sure, I know him. He was at my Halloween party, but not by my invite. He came with a buddy of mine who, turns out, was later involved in some shady scam shit. He’s not a friend anymore. I should’ve known. He was hanging out with Seth, after all. Yeah, that tracks.
“Hey, Seth,” Jensen says, and maybe I’m seeing things, but I swear his entire demeanor shifts. He relaxes, and his fingers stop fidgeting for the first time since we got here.
I don’t say a word. Not to Seth. Not to Jensen. I’m too busy watching this weird-as-fuck interaction.
Seth’s the worst kind of person—slimy, dishonest in every possible way.
He used to be the guy everyone went to when they wanted to party.
Always had the hookups. Word on the street is he’s cheating on his wife and has a second family in another state, and neither one knows about the other.
I’ve also heard he’s still playing middleman, only now it’s not for cheap college kids.
He’s dealing high-end scripts and coke to suit-wearing execs with money burning a hole in their pockets.
He and Jensen exchange a few words, then Seth’s eyes bounce between us—like he can tell he’s not fucking wanted here. Good.
“Well, it was good to see you both. Catch you around.”
Jensen says goodbye, and my eyes follow Seth as he wanders over to a large group of people across the bar.
“Can you believe that guy?” Jensen says, finally giving me his attention. “Heard he’s been cheating on his wife for years.” He scoffs and takes a sip of his beer.
“Yeah. Heard the same thing.” I toss back the rest of my whiskey. The burn slides down my throat and hits just right as a solid buzz settles in.
Jensen takes another swig of his beer, and he seems… more relaxed. Maybe my suspicions are way off. Maybe he really is just stressed, and now that the alcohol’s kicking in, he’s finally able to chill.
He sets his beer down. “I’ve gotta pee.”
Standing, he downs the rest of his drink, then makes his way through the crowd. As he passes Seth, I swear to God, their eyes meet—just for a second. Then Jensen disappears down the hall toward the restrooms.
No lie—thirty seconds later, Seth follows. Same direction. Down the same hallway. I’m either losing my mind or something shady as fuck is about to go down.
I stay put—watching, waiting. Seth reappears in under a minute. Not even long enough to take a leak.
Three minutes pass, and there’s still no sign of Jensen.
I try to talk myself down. Tell myself I’m overthinking this. This is Jensen. He’s just taking a piss, maybe even taking a shit—I don’t know. But no matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise… My instinct says something’s not right.