Chapter Nineteen #2
Petite with curves that defy her frame, she’s wearing a black dress that clings to her like it was sewn onto her skin.
The hem barely covers her thighs, riding up just enough to leave nothing to the imagination.
Three-inch heels add a sensual sway to her hips, and her hair has a rich copper hue, styled in soft ringlets that fall like silk down her back.
Her lips are cherry red, and her eyes are bright and playful as they lock onto Wesley.
She taps him on the shoulder, confidence pouring off her in waves. “Hey,” she yells, voice syrupy and bold. “I saw you at the bar. You’re fine as hell, and I was wondering if you wanna dance?”
Wesley blinks for a few awkward seconds before turning on the charm, his megawatt smile lighting up the club under the bright neon lights pulsing to the beat.
From across the booth, I feel Poppy go rigid. Her fingers freeze around her glass mid stir, and she stares, not at the girl, but at Wesley.
Jealousy rolls off her in thick, unspoken waves, even if her face stays mostly unreadable.
Mostly. But I see it. It’s in the tight clench of her jaw, and the flicker of something dangerous in her eyes.
The way her hand squeezes the straw like it might snap in two, lets me know just how she feels about the pretty little red-head drawing his attention away from her.
Wesley glances at Poppy, maybe looking for a reaction, maybe hoping for one. But she just blinks and turns back to her drink, ice clinking violently against the glass.
He hesitates for half a heartbeat, then smiles at the redhead.
“Sure, sweetheart. Let’s go.”
And just like that, he takes the girl’s hand, allowing her to pull him toward the dance floor.
Poppy follows them with her eyes, her stare razor-sharp and unblinking. She doesn't say a word, but she doesn’t have to. Her silence is louder than anything she’s ever screamed.
“He’s such a Neanderthal,” she mutters finally, stabbing at her drink like it insulted her ancestors. “He’ll fuck anything with two legs.” But her voice wavers slightly, maybe because she’s realizing for the first time since they’ve known each other, that Wesley might not always be waiting for her.
Eddie, enjoying every minute of this, leans over. “Little does she know, that Wesley doesn’t fuck just any woman, he’s very particular about who he leads to his bed.”
My eyes widen slightly as they search the dance floor for Wesley. He’s dancing very close to the red-head, hand on her hip, pelvis practically fucking her pelvis.
“Oh, he’s going to fuck that one,” I say loudly. “If for anything else to make Poppy jealous. She could be getting pregnant as we speak.”
Poppy’s head snaps their way, and her mouth slightly clenches.
Oh yeah, she’s definitely getting jealous.
“I’m going to go find the bathroom. If I don’t come back, don’t send out a search party,” Poppy quickly says, moving away from the table just as Wesley begins furiously making out with the girl he’s dancing with.
“How long do you think it will take her to realize she’s secretly in love with him?” Eddie questions.
“If she is, she’ll never admit it. She’s never going to give him a chance, unfortunately. It would take a miracle for that to happen. Like Cupid would have to come down and shoot her with a million of his arrows before she’ll ever admit her attraction for him out loud.”
The laugh that belts out of Eddie is infectious. But he knows I’m right. I’m always right. His fingers delve into my hair, looking at me with nothing but love in his eyes.
“I think Wesley and I have a lot in common.”
“How so?” I question.
“We both have a woman we’d do anything for. Poppy could try to kill that man and he’d still step in front of a bullet for her. Her disdain for him is no match for his devotion to her.”
“Maybe one day she’ll change her mind, but something catastrophic would have to happen first. Speaking of which,” I say, turning toward him. “What was up with you leaving the table like that earlier? That was really fishy, Eddie. Is everything okay?”
Again, his eyes search the room nervously, looking everywhere but at me.
“Eddie, what’s wrong? You look like you’re keeping something from me.”
He chews on his bottom lip like it’s the only thing holding him together. His eyes avoid mine, flicking toward the dance floor, then back to his drink before he finally sighs, shoulders sagging with regret.
“I guess I’m just nervous about the wedding. What if you get cold feet?”
“I won’t.”
He looks up, brow furrowed. “But how can you be sure?”
“Because I love you, Eddie. There’s nothing you can say or do that will make me walk away from you again.”
He stares at me for a beat too long. Not like he’s soaking up the words, but like he’s waiting for them to change. They don’t.
“Amber,” he starts, his voice dangerously low. “There’s something I should really tell you before we do this.”
“Okay,” I say gently. “What is it?”
“You know that night we broke up?”
“Which time?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood with a chuckle.
He doesn’t laugh. His hand goes to the back of his neck, muscles tensing, guilt crawling into the corners of his eyes. “Well, after we broke up I—”
The crowd erupts into terrified screams, just as a body slides across the hardwood, limbs flailing, stopping inches from our table.
Chairs screech, drinks spilling everywhere as the music cuts out, the only sound coming from Wesley’s heavy boots as he storms across the room like a rhino charging, fists balled, chest heaving in angry huffs.
His eyes burn with pure rage, zeroing in on the guy scrambling to his feet.
The man barely regains balance before Wesley slams a punch into his jaw. The sickening crack echoes like a firework, sending the guy stumbling into a table nearby.
Gasps ripple through the crowd seconds before they start chanting. “Fight. Fight. Fight.” Over and over again.
“Touch her again, and I’ll fucking murder you,” Wesley growls, voice guttural and shaking with fury.
Poppy stands frozen nearby, her face pale, her hand trembling in the air like she meant to grab Wesley but couldn’t get her body to move fast enough. The hot redhead looks livid, her confused lips curl in disgust as she clutches her phone and starts to back away.
So much for them fucking tonight.
The guy spits blood onto the floor, barely missing my shoe. He grins through split lips. “You seemed to be doing just fine for yourself, asshole. Why the fuck are you stepping in where you aren’t needed?”
“Because I know exactly who the fuck you are,” Wesley barks, stepping forward again. “And if you ever touch my friend again, I’ll break more than your jaw.”
The man takes a reckless swing, nailing Wesley in the side of his face, barely budging him.
Then he’s sacked to the ground, Wesley taking him down so hard his skull makes a hollow sound off the flooring.
A fury of punches follow, each one creating more blood.
It coats his face, every inch of him covered in the other man’s crimson fluids.
“Wesley, stop!” Poppy screams just as security rushes in, pushing through the crowd, the tension only snapping when it takes four of them to grab Wesley by the arms and pull him off the guy that looks like half-breathing hamburger meat.
The second he’s wrenched back it’s like a light detonates in his eyes, and reality refocuses.
“Get the fuck off me,” he shouts, but without venom. His voice is tired now. Worn out. Hurt.
They slam him against a wall, slapping on a pair of cuffs as his cheek crushes against the cold concrete, a look of murder raging in his eye.
Eddie glances over his shoulder, making sure I’m okay, before he takes off into a sprint, desperate to help his friend.
“Eddie, wait!” I shout after him. I know I’m okay, but I’m in shock.
Chasing after him, we come to a stop inches away from Wesley. He could easily take the security guards if he wanted to, but he’s not going to, not when it could make things even worse for him.
“Where are you taking him?” Eddie questions.
“Jail,” one of the security guards grits out, pushing Wesley toward the door.
“I’ll bail you out, man!” Eddie shouts after him just as a few police officers march into the club, seizing Wesley from security.
“Don’t bother!” Wesley shouts. “Just fucking take care of Poppy for me.” Then he’s gone, dragged out into the parking lot, his recent good record already being scratched and erased.
My hand finds Eddie’s. There’s a slight tremble, one that I wish I could quell. He loves Wesley like a brother, and to see him fall apart like this makes me realize just how amazing my soon to be husband really is.
“He’ll be okay,” I encourage, just as Poppy appears at our side.
“What the fuck happened?” Eddie seethes, his brow furrowed with a glare aimed at Poppy.
“He lost it,” she exclaims. “One minute, I’m walking out of the bathroom, and the next, that goon is crowding me, not letting me move any further until I agreed to dance with him.
Wesley must’ve seen him touch me because the guy was flying across the room before I could even process what was happening. ”
His eyes meet mine, and suddenly he looks like he’s somewhere else. Like whatever just happened is mixing with whatever he was about to say earlier, and he can’t keep afloat as the world sinks around him.
“Eddie, are you okay?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know if he can get out of this one,” he mumbles. “This is his third strike.”
Poppy gasps. “What does that mean?”
He doesn’t answer right away, his gaze fixated on the doors his best friend just went through.
When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, unreadable. “It means he’s going to jail, maybe for a long time this time.”
“Oh shit,” I exclaim as Poppy covers her mouth in shock.
“He can’t go to prison. He was just protecting me,” she whispers.
Eddie turns furiously towards her. “Like you fucking care. You’ve been nothing but a scathing bitch toward him since you met. Don’t act like you give a fuck about him now, not when it’s your fault this even happened.”
Poppy looks at the floor.
“Yeah, that floor isn’t going to help you get out of this one, Poppy. I hope you’re happy. Because your wish just got fucking granted. Now you’ll never have to see him again.”
Eddie takes two steps toward the door, but I stop him, making sure he can see me through his angry haze.
“Eddie, wait. What were you going to tell me earlier?”
He shakes me off, his anger only intensifying. “Amber, can’t you see there’s more important things to worry about right now? What I was going to say can wait. It doesn’t fucking matter. Not anymore.”
But I know better.
Something has Eddie spiraling, and it’s not his friend getting arrested. Whatever it is, it’s big… and I’m not sure what scares me more, the fact that he didn’t say anything, or the fact he’s perfectly okay with keeping it hidden?