Jet follows me over, and I slap him five. “What’s up? You playing bouncer for the night?” I try to shake Ava out of my mind, but she’s right there with that happy-go-lucky grin of hers, unshakable, unmovable, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was enjoying every minute.
“Actually, I’m waiting for my girlfriend to show up.” He glances back at a table in the corner. “You going to the homecoming game tomorrow night? My buddy, Rex, is gonna tear up the field.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
He glances over my shoulder and winces. “Hey, you mind if I introduce you to somebody?”
I look over at a couple of guys sucking down beers and inspect their faces as best as I can, but not one of those dudes is Bryson Edwards.
“Yeah, sure.” I don’t see the harm. For all I know, Jet just wants me to expand my friendly horizons. I sort of spilled everything to the guy the day he gave me the tattoo of Stephanie’s name. His kindness in that moment meant the world to me. There aren’t too many people who you can spill your guts to, but there was something about Jet that made me feel as if he understood loss on a personal level himself.
“Yo.” He nods at the brawny guy at the end of the table. I can see the monochromatic sleeves running down his arms. His neck looks tatted up as well. He has a kind face, friendly grin as he makes his way over. Something about that devilish look in his eyes has a familiar feel to it. “Dude, don’t bolt.” Jet shakes his head at me. Those dark shadows he calls eyes speak to me on a whole other level. “This is Owen Vincent. His sister is—”
“Aubree.” It comes out more of a hiss than anything audible. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I said her name. Not sure I ever said it out loud. My stomach grinds to concrete. My blood runs cold. Maybe that’s what I’m seeing in his eyes—a killer’s eyes. I shake the thought out of my head before I let it settle. “So, this is your friend, huh?” I’m not too sure what Jet’s point here is. It’s clear he knows who I am. Or he put it together. God knows I handed him enough pieces of the puzzle. “I’d say nice to meet you, but I’d be lying.” A dull smile pumps from me. I don’t know too much about the bitch that killed my sister. Don’t care to. I know all of the important facts. She’s rotting behind prison bars until kingdom come, and even that will be too soon to set her free.
Owen shifts from foot to foot. He takes a deep breath, and that wild look on his face slowly melts to a morbid acceptance.
“Are you in town?”
I can’t tell if he’s puzzled or vexed by my presence—most likely both.
“I’m at Briggs.”
“Oh.” He glances to Jet with that what-the-fuck look on his face. “So am I.” Owen staggers back a moment before glancing over. “I’m sorry. I can never say it enough, and I swear on all that is holy, I mean every last syllable. I beg your forgiveness. I cannot imagine the pain you and your family have gone through.”
“Your mother said it all at the trial. You didn’t do a thing wrong. Don’t beg me for anything.”
Those strange eyes of his drill into mine, and for a minute, I consider kicking his ass all over the place. It’s pretty clear he could kick right back, but when you have bottled-up rage infesting your veins like I do, there’s not a chance in hell he’d ever succeed. His brows flex up at the center in the same way Ava’s do, and something about that one simple gesture softens me.
“All right. I’m over it. I’m not going to kick your ass.” A dull laugh bucks through me, and the two of them do the same.
Jet lands his catcher’s mitt of a hand over my shoulder and throttles me. “That is one war you might not win. Good move, dude.”
“I’d win.” I slap Owen five. “So, this is weird for you, too, right?”
“Damn straight.” His demeanor grows serious again. “Look, I know you’re here with your buddies, and I see your dinner getting cold. If you ever see me on campus, don’t be a stranger. I think”—he swallows hard as if he can’t get the words out—“I kind of needed this.”
“I think I kind of needed it, too.” I’m lying. I don’t need a damn thing from this asshole or his family. If I see Owen Vincent coming my way, I’m running for the damn hills. I glance over at my steak glistening under the lights, and my stomach turns.
“Oh, hey—” Owen nods over to someone at the bar and flags him over.
I turn in time to see a buff dude with a rag over his shoulder—a slightly curious look on his all too familiar face and—
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
There have been times in my life where I have wanted to disappear. They have been few and far between, but this right here is one of them. Why the hell is the universe turning up the shitstorm tonight?
“Don’t panic,” Jet whispers, and for some reason, I glom onto his words and try to do just that.
“What’s up?” Bryson Edwards. He offers a complacent smile my way before his eyes turn into ovals of regret, and he takes a step back. His face bleaches out. He’s holding his breath, and, truth be told, if he passes out, I’ll step right over his heart on my way to the door like he did to my sister all those years ago. “Grant.” His eyes close a moment. Only it’s not regret sweeping over his face anymore. It’s pure pity. “What’s up? How are you, man?” He steps forward, keeping his voice low like he doesn’t want to cause a scene. “What are you doing around these parts? You need a beer? I got a pint with your name on it.”
“No thanks.” I realize that the Mr. Nice Guy routine I just dumped on Owen like a fresh pile of bullshit should probably be reprised, but it’s all just a little too much, and all of my false pretenses are just out of reach. Nope, this is the real deal, the real bitter me they’ll both have to contend with. “Look, I’m not sure what’s happening, but I need to take off.” I turn to go, and Bryson gets in my way. That sorrowful look dripping off his features spears me in the gut. Bryson might be all muscle, but there’s something assuring in his eyes. I can see how Steph must have fallen for him. I just wish she didn’t. I wish he didn’t break her heart. She deserved to be loved. She was the best, and he missed it. In a twisted way, his rejection toward Steph feels like a rejection of me.
“Please, stop by—anytime. I mean it.” His chest decompresses with his next breath. “I miss her, too.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I knock my shoulder into his as I head out the door, hit the cool night air, and just keep walking. Rush is smart enough to let me go. And right now, I’m thankful Jet is, too.
I hit the end of the block and duck behind the alley. My back lands against a dumpster as I tilt my head back, eyes to the stars. It’s so beautiful out I want to kick the living shit out of everyone back there because Stephanie will never get to see the stars, see the beauty that life has to offer, take another crisp autumn breath.
