Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
M ARK, the guy who happens to be at the right place this time around
I walk into the Cat and Stallion, hoping to get a drink and get lost in the sounds of the crowd after a difficult shift.
We couldn’t save someone. Those calls always take a toll on me.
I relive those moments many times over, thinking about what we could have done differently, hoping the outcome could be changed.
But I’ll meet with those thoughts later, at my house, when I’m alone with no barrier between us.
Rory, a pretty bartender, shoots me a flirty smile that I don’t have the mental capacity to return. She reads my mood and brings me my usual drink without a word.
“I made you a double. It’s on the house.” She pats my hand, plastered on the counter, and walks away. Bartenders. They’re a special breed. Better help than a therapist and better at reading people than damn tarot cards.
I nod gratefully and chug half of it. Just as I’m about to feel that warm fuzzy feeling in my stomach, a loud laugh comes through the door. A very fake and a very familiar laugh.
Justin fucking Attleborough. God, I hate this guy. And after Kayla, that pure soul… I squeeze my glass, nearly breaking it.
“Oh, look who’s here.” He walks over to me. Of course. Today of all days, he wants to fight. I chug the rest of my drink and smack the glass on the table. On the other hand, a fight is just what I might need right now.
“Got a problem, golden boy?” I ask. I know he hates that.
His eyes turn violent.
“Possibly.” He leans his elbow on the counter next to mine.
He smells like a rotten vineyard, and my desire to fight evaporates.
I don’t pick fights with drunk people. I don’t want to end up in jail for accidentally killing someone.
A good, nice brawl with a decent opponent, on the other hand—sign me up.
We’ve had quite a few of those throughout our lifetime.
I always felt better after each one, if I’m completely honest. All the anger and hurt leaves your body after you get that first punch in.
It doesn’t matter whether you’re the one to deliver it or receive it—it’s just a different sort of pleasure.
“Go home, Justin. Sleep it off.”
“Can’t do.” He spreads his arms wide. “Haven’t done that in a while.”
“What? Gone home?” My chuckle is sarcastic. The dude is in desperate need of a shower.
“Slept.” Then he looks around, looking almost uncomfortable. Like he overshared. I take pity on him, even if he doesn’t deserve it.
“Yeah, I bet you haven’t. With all those women who occupy your bed. I bet they keep you busy.” My jab is deliberate, but it doesn’t hit the mark. Instead of rattled, Justin just looks confused.
His forehead wrinkles. “What are you talking about? I’ve been a fucking monk for months.”
“Yeah. Did you tell that to Kayla when she found you in bed with a piece of ass?” I motion to Rory to get me another drink.
I expect him to spit something dirty and sarcastic at me, but he’s quiet. I glance at him. His eyes are trained on me, and I can tell he’s quickly sobering up.
“What do you mean found me in bed with a piece of ass?”
Oh shit. Did I say something I wasn’t supposed to?
Fuckity fuck. Rory brings me my drink, and I’m saved by the glass.
I bring it to my lips to keep myself busy.
Fuck, did I betray Kayla’s trust by saying something I wasn’t supposed to?
He was the one in bed with another woman, so he should know what I’m talking about.
But he doesn’t. It’s clear as day that he has no idea what I’m talking about at all.
“No fights, boys,” Rory reminds us before leaving us to our business.
I gulp down my drink, wave for Rory to put it on my tab, and quickly walk toward the exit.
I shouldn’t be driving with two drinks in my system, especially after a full sleepless shift. I gotta get home somehow, so I decide to walk and pick up my truck tomorrow morning. I don’t have a shift, and I don’t need to be anywhere early anyway.
Heavy footsteps soon follow me, and the situation feels all too familiar .
“Wait,” Justin calls, but there is no malice in his voice, only urgency, so I cave and turn around.
“What?”
“What did you mean back there?” He points to the bar.
I look between him and the bar as if I’ll find answers between them.
“Look. I’m lost here. She left without a word, and I have no idea what happened.
The whole town rioted against me, and no one will say a word.
Just tell me what you know. Please.” His ‘please’ does it.
He wipes his face with his hands, looking miserable.
I don’t give a shit about him being a miserable fuck—he deserves that and so much more.
But I care about Kayla, and if my senses are right, there may have been a colossal misunderstanding, resulting in poor Kayla suffering for nothing.
I sigh. “I drove her to her place the day she left.” His jaw clenches tight, and I chuckle.
One possessive fucker. I’ll never be like that if I ever find the right woman to settle with.
Never. I’ll always be the rational one. “Chill. I drove by your garage and saw her being harassed by Jake, so I had to stop.” His nostrils flare, and his eyes suddenly turn a dangerous shade.
The one from that night. “Did you talk to Jake?”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t think he knew anything.”
“Oh, that little fucker knows.” I hear my teeth grind with irritation. “He was following her from your house and talking shit. I had to step in because he was being a total asshole to her while she was crying her eyes out.”
His face twists in pain, and I’m one hundred percent sure a big revelation is imminent. He swallows and asks, “Do you know why she was crying?”
I level him with a stare, taking a deep breath. “Because she saw another woman sleeping with you. Naked. ”
“Fuck!” he yells, pulling on his hair. “Now that fucking smell makes sense.”
I’m glad it makes sense to him because it doesn’t make any sense to me.
“Of fuck. Thanks, man.” He begins pacing and suddenly stops, looking at me with crazed eyes. “Wait. You said you saw Jake there. Are you sure?”
“Pretty damn sure. He was following her from the back of your building and threatened me with the law like he always does.”
His fists clench, his jaw sets, and for a moment there, I’m a little scared for that poor fucker. He nods and walks down the road toward his house.
Did I do a good deed or a bad one?