She turns back to me. “See? Arealman doesn’t do that kind of thing.”
“Hey!” I take offense to that. I’m a real man.
“No. You don’t get to defend yourself on that one. Have you wondered how she is? Are you worried that Dylan’s reappeared?”
“Has he?” Fuck.
“You don’t get to ask that question. Not to me. Did you wonder if he wrote her another creepy letter?”
“Did he?”
She holds up her hand. “Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. If he did, we gave it to Gage.He’lltake care of her.”
“The fuck?” I spit. “Gage?”
“What of it?” Quinn snaps back. “He’s called her almost every day to check on her. But have you?”
I lay my head back and stare at the ceiling. “Quinn—”
“No. And don’t you dare call her now. If she finds out I came here and told you that, she’ll kill me. And if she kills me, I’m going to tell Cooke to hobble over to Cy’s and punch you in your damn junk.”
Cooke chuckles. “No, Love. His throat. Punch him in his throat. I want nuttin’ to do with his junk.”
“Whatever,” she snaps at her man. “It’s the punching part that matters.”
“Aye.” Cooke sips his beer. I guess my expression isn’t pleasing him, because he sets his glass down slowly and grunts, “And don’t look so smug, lad. Even with this brace, I’ll kick your bloody ass.”
I have my doubts about that, but I’m keeping my mouth shut. He is a professional athlete, after all, so I just nod.
“Look, Quinn—”
“No,” she snaps, holding up her hand to stop me from speaking. “I don’t know who screwed you up, but you can’t treat Tayler like this. Either shit or get off the pot. If you like her and want to see where it goes, you can’t ghost her for a week and expect things to be hunky-dory.”
“Time got away from me. I….” I stop when Quinn rolls her eyes.
“You’re a grown-ass man. You own your business. Time doesn’t get away fromyou, Luke. That’s bullshit.”
She’s right. “I let too much time pass. The longer it went, the more I worried she’d be mad.”
“Here’s some advice. Don’t do that.” She throws up her hands. “God, all you had to do was text her, you idiot.”
“Right.” She’s right. A quick text would have done it. God, my head hurts.
Sliding off her seat, Quinn reaches around Cooke to grab his crutches. “I like you, Luke. I even like you for Tayler, but she can’t take this crap from you. She needs to focus on school, and you’re messing with her head. That’s not fair to her.”
“Does she still need a job?”
What the fuck am I doing?
“She needs something over break.”
“I need help over break.”
“Well then, I guess you’d better talk to her. Be honest with her about why you didn’t call. No games. Be a damn grown-up.”
I nod, hoping Quinn leaves soon. I can’t take her lecturing me much longer.
Cooke quickly drinks the rest of his beer and reaches into his pocket for his wallet. I wave him off. “On the house.”
With a shrug he reaches for his crutches. Once he’s set, he turns to me. “Later, Luke.”
“Later.”
