Chapter 3 #2
“Ignore her,” Cade states, glaring at the doorway Gabby just walked through.
My eyes search Charli’s, and even though she puts up a thick veneer, I can tell Gabby’s words hit their mark.
Like always. Charli’s a tough cookie, but even strong women have their weaknesses.
For her, it’s the fact her boyfriend cheated on her, blamed her for it, like the fucking loser he is, and then left a deep scar behind.
Charli does exactly what I expect her to do.
She pretends it doesn’t affect her and sets out to have a good time.
I watch as she restarts her game with Oaklee, only this time, there’s a big change.
She’s not being competitive. She’s acting indifferent.
Like the words Gabby spewed didn’t hurt her, like she’s the life of the party, as if nothing can faze her.
It’s a front.
Underneath all that toughness and sass is a woman who loves fiercely and hurts deeply.
I’ve seen through it over the years, stole glimpses around the walls she’s built around her heart to help protect herself.
She’s dated since Dick, but she refuses to let anyone get close enough to do damage, like what he caused.
“I hate it,” Camden mutters beside me as the sounds of Oaklee and Charli laughing fill the bar.
“Me too,” I reply, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. “That fucker did a number.”
“And it doesn’t help she’s still running around here, throwing jabs at Charli left and right.” Clearly, he’s referring to Gabby and the fact her face always appears when we least expect it.
“Yeah,” I agree. Fortunately, Dick left town not too long after the breakup. Whether that was really for a new job or the fact one of the Miller siblings’ fists would connect with his face whenever they saw him, I’m not sure, but at least that asshole’s gone now.
Good riddance.
My beer grows warm, and even though Camden offers to get me a fresh one on his next trip to the bar, I just don’t feel like drinking anymore.
Not as I watch Charli let loose and pretend everything’s fine.
I’ve always had a strong protective streak when it comes to her, and not because she isn’t capable of taking care of herself. She is.
For the next couple of hours, I chat with Camden, Cade, and anyone else who drops by our table, all while keeping my eye on Charli.
She’s hell-bent on drinking her worries away, which is not like her.
Yes, Charli enjoys a drink or two every now and again, but she rarely ties one on like she’s doing tonight.
Oaklee approaches our table, and I can instantly see the gray tint to her skin. “Hey, Cade, I’m not feeling so hot,” she says, placing her hand on his arm.
Cade practically jumps up, concern filling his face. “What’s wrong?”
She gives me a sheepish grin. “I think the alcohol is upsetting my stomach.”
“Let’s get you home,” he insists, turning his attention to all of us. “You guys ready?”
“Nope!” Charli declares, swaying from side to side.
“Well, I’m your ride, and I need to get Oaklee home,” Cade states slowly.
“I’ll get a ride from someone,” Charli suggests, and I can already tell both of her brothers are ready to argue.
“I’ll take her,” I spit out before an argument starts.
“You drank,” Cade points out.
“I only had one hours ago, and didn’t even finish it,” I tell him.
“He’s right. He switched to water,” Camden confirms.
“Camden and I will hang around and get her home. I came with him, so I’ll drive his truck.”
Cade looks from me to Camden then to Charli. “All right.”
Charli huffs out a deep breath. “Hello? I can take care of myself,” she insists.
“Yes, but I would feel better knowing someone was watching out for you,” Cade replies gently.
His sister rolls his eyes. “That’s dumb.” Then, as if a switch is flipped, her annoyance transforms into one of those over-the-top gushy girl hugs. “I’m so sorry you feel bad, but I had the bestest time with you!” She throws her arms around Oaklee and gives her a firm hug.
Leaning closer to me, Cade whispers, “Keep an eye on her. I don’t know when the last time I saw her like this was.”
I nod. “No problem. I’ll make sure they both get home safe.”
Cade lifts his chin in acknowledgement before extracting his girlfriend from his sister’s clutches. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get you home.”
As Camden and Charli engage in a conversation, my eyes follow their brother as he escorts his girlfriend to the bar.
He leans over and says something to Collin, who glances back at us and nods.
I’m certain he was just telling his twin how I’m driving the other two home, but to keep an eye on us.
Collin and Cade take their jobs as the oldest siblings very seriously, not that I blame them.
If I had a younger sibling—or any sibling at all—I’d be the same way.
Camden and I sit and watch his sister for a while, until finally she looks like she’s slowing down. It’s almost midnight, well past the time I thought I’d be home for the evening, and after a long day of work, I’m more than ready to call it a night.
“Ready?” Camden asks when she approaches the table after visiting with a couple of former school classmates.
“Yep,” she replies. She’s most definitely unsteady on her feet right now, and the more tired she gets, the more she seems to stumble.
“Come on, Cactus,” I state, gently sliding my arm around her waist to help guide her toward the door.
“I can walk just fine,” she insists, but I don’t remove my arm. Even though she’s putting one foot in front of the other, I can feel her leaning into my side as we go.
Camden and I each throw a wave at Collin and Lizzie before we reach the entrance. The air is cool outside and is welcome, my entire body suddenly all too aware of how close Charli and I are.
When we reach Camden’s truck, he opens the passenger door. “Put her in the front seat,” he says to me before turning his attention to his sister and adds, “Don’t you dare throw up in my truck.”
She starts giggling and can’t seem to stop. “I won’t, silly goose. I don’t ever throw up when I’m drunk. I’m Super Drunk,” she declares before diving into another giggle fit.
“Come on, Super Drunk,” I mutter, helping her climb into the passenger seat.
Suddenly, she leans forward and sticks her nose in my neck. Her inhale is loud and long, and I catch Camden’s smile and shake of his head. “You smell nice. Nothing like the overprotective jerk you normally smell like.”
I chuckle, reaching for her seat belt to make sure she’s secure. “Thank you? I didn’t realize overprotective jerk had a scent.”
“Oh, it does. But you smell all woodsy and nice now. I like it.”
Knowing my oldest friend is already in the back seat of his truck, most likely watching my every move, I ignore my own desire to brush my lips across her forehead or see if I can catch the jasmine and vanilla scent on her skin.
Instead, I keep things firmly in the no-fly zone, where our interactions have always been. “Let’s get you home and to bed.”
I should get some sort of award for this restraint.