Chapter 30 Brighton #2
She lives with you, asshole.
I can hear my brother in my head, reminding me about how stupid I’m being.
But ever since she told me about her past, I can’t help but buffer her from other men.
Like she’s triggered some possessive idiot that lives inside of me, the one I haven’t met since my early years with feisty, loud-mouthed Riona Cody.
I grind my teeth together, calling her that.
She was Riona Black for so long until you ran her into the ground.
Every once in a while, I can still hear that laugh, see that girlish smile on her face, and I forget how badly it had gone wrong.
I met Riona at a party that Boone had dragged me to.
She was all blonde hair and glassy, predatory eyes, those long, sharp lashes fluttering at anyone who would look at her.
She was quick with her tongue and even faster with her insults, and I knew I needed to feel how good those sharp teeth felt in my skin.
It was one night. One party. And she was mine forever.
Her heart and everything that came next in the weeks that followed.
Never leaving each other’s side, the fear of finding out she was pregnant with Daisy, the fights, the worry, the sex, and the laughter.
She had years of school left, and I had no education and even less money.
So I joined the Marines with some stupid notion that they’d train me for real life, but instead I got a blood-stained soul, divorce, a daughter that hates me, and an aura void of any light.
“You’re not very bright.” Her drunken words repeat in my head as my eyes catch Rhea, laughing brightly at something as the music grows louder again, and they prepare for the next round of contestants.
Maybe I could be.
“He’s starting to get pissy,” Kaia says, appearing at my side. I flinch. She's one of the only people that can sneak up on me.
“You’re too quiet,” I mutter with a scowl.
She shrugs as I whip her up a whiskey sour and she settles onto the stool as Sunday and Cosy find their way to the bar.
Boone is quick to steal three more beers right out from under Miles’s nose, and Kaia is right, the more drunk his buddies get, the more he realizes what’s happening.
“What the fuck is this?” He storms up to the bar. “My drinks have been weak or missing all night? Is this how you run a fucking business?”
“Watch your tone, fire-rat.” I point to him as he nearly pushes Sunday off her stool to get to the bar. “Maybe you should be asking your friends, they seem twice as drunk as you.”
“Harmless hazing, Miles.” Kaia leans over the bar as she sips on her drink with a grin.
“Fuck off, Keegan. You’re probably behind this,” he sneers.
“If I were, you’d know it,” she snaps. This doesn’t bode well.
“Can I get something to drink that isn’t water?” He ignores her and redirects his attention to me.
“What do you want?” I ask, cleaning my hands on the towel thrown over my shoulder.
“Vodka.”
“We’re out.”
“Whiskey,” he snaps.
I look around at the bar, eyes raking over the abundance of full bottles that are stored above my head. “Shit out of luck.”
“Gin,” he tries, and it’s clear he’s going to lose his shit any second, but he looks like an idiot without a shirt on, and his contest number is roughly finger-painted on one of his flabby pecs.
“Don’t know what to tell you,” I say, and I hear the girls snort into their drinks.
“I don’t know what fucking game this is, but I know a lot of people who can make you hurt for this little stunt,” he sneers, wagging a finger at me.
I’m content to ignore him until he reaches out to take Sunday’s full glass of sangria.
Faster and working with the advantage of surprise, I catch him by the head and slam his face into the bar.
Sunday is up out of her stool before the glass tips and shatters across the counter.
“Don’t touch my sister,” I warn him, holding his cheek to the surface.
“I wasn’t going to!” He yells, and a few of the people around the crowded area have stopped to watch what’s going on. “I just wanted a fucking drink!”
“Bri,” Sunday’s voice isn’t quiet, but it’s not commanding. I look up at her, and she smiles at me. “I’m alright, let him go.”
“Get your shirt on and get out of my bar.” I give him a shove, and he stumbles back, the side of his face red from the contact.
“You can’t kick me out!” Miles argues, putting his hands out wide. The way he’s talked about, I expected him to be bigger, tougher, maybe. But he’s all binge drinking and no self-control.
“I don’t have to,” I say, nodding to who’s behind him.
Rhea had appeared from the crowd shortly after the girls had funneled back into the bar, and she’s watching now with her arms crossed behind Miles as he throws his hissy fit.
She narrows her eyes at him, and for once, they aren’t sad; instead, they’re full of excitement and bright with hues of green and gold I’ve never seen before.
“He’s shoving customers around and being rude.” I cross my arms and watch as his face falls.
“Yeah,” Rhea says. “That tracks. I’ve got plans tonight, so let’s keep this parting clean of any drama.” She smirks at him, and Kaia starts to laugh so hard she tips from her chair, and Cosy has to keep her upright.
“Are you seriously still salty?” Miles jokes over the sound of cheering as more firefighters roll onto the stage.
“Yeah,” Rhea says. “I am.” She smiles, sharp as a blade. “You got it wrong. I’m not only high maintenance—I’m petty, too.”
She doesn’t wait for him to respond; she just walks forward with intimidating height and every muscle in her arms flexing as Miles starts to stumble backwards. He yells a few more profanities, complains about his shirt, and tries to argue her out of it, but she never breaks.
“Here.” I hand her a beer without looking at her as she leans her back against the bar, and the girls hype her up. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her bring it to her lips with a tiny smirk on her face. Her pride and confidence were restored in one fell swoop. That’s my sad girl.