“Bullshit.”
“Liar. You know you would have talked over me and not listened to a damn word I said.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Like you’re an ambassador of fair? Come on, A.”
I pushed my lips together in frustration and nodded in agreement. I thought he was being a tad dramatic, but I could see the point he was trying to make. Libby softened the blow and opened up the lines of communication. She’d helped me see sense where Tate would have only incited me to see red. There was no way in hell I was getting that guardian of the year award.
“Just lock your door in the future, and stop fucking stealing bourbon, jackass.”
“That’s it?”
“You want more?” I asked, folding my arms and narrowing my eyes at him. “I have plenty more where—”
He kissed me on the top of my head quickly, almost shy about the affectionate gesture before he held his hand out toLibby and backed away slowly. The eyes he shared with Dad were twinkling back at me, full of his usual mischief.
“That’s what I thought, turd. Don’t go too far, though, T. Drew wants to see you.”
“Oh, come on, Ayda.”
“Not about this, you brat. Stop whining and go make yourself useful.”
Tate nodded as Libby hopped down from the dryer, her eyes flickering between the two of us. She wasn’t as stupid as she looked. As much as she knew Drew was probably staying out of their business, she could read the uncertainty in my eyes, the doubt, the fear. I just hoped Tate had the sense to say no where I couldn’t.
Chapter Twelve
Drew
It felt like the right time to try to get all this dealt with. I was in no mood to be pacing back and forth over a gang of imitators—ones I was certain I could squash in a minute if I got close enough. I made my way through the club, my swagger a little heavy as I brought my hand up to the bridge of my nose and gave it a pinch. There was a constant, aching tiredness running through me most days—a tiredness which I put down to the fact that I seemed incapable of actually sleeping when I climbed into bed with Ayda every night.
I was becoming a fucking vampire, but I’d be damned if I planned on quitting that shit anytime soon. Thoughts of me pressed against her and inside her were what kept me going. They were also what made me walk around this place with a shit-eating grin most of the time.
Dropping my arm until it swung lazily by my side, I shoved the other hand in my pocket and rounded the corner to go find my woman, but as I did, I was instantly slammed into by a wall of muscle that wasn’t far off from matching my own. Stepping back on one foot and pulling my chin back, I leaned away to see Tate muttering an instant apology under his breath.
“Fuck, man, I’m sorry.”
I was about to tell him not to sweat it when something—or should I say someone—caught my attention from behind him. I peered around him to take a good look. As soon as I saw the chick whose name I didn’t know, I fell back into place and flashed Tate a smirk.
“Do you have a death wish, young blood?”
“What?”
I pointed at the figure hiding behind him.
Tate frowned and pulled the girl closer behind him. “Uh. No. No death wish. Listen, if this is about Libby—”
“Who?”
“Libby,” he repeated flatly, nodding behind him at the girl who had just pushed her thumb nail into her mouth and was now staring at the floor.
My laughter tore free, my shoulders bouncing as I spoke. “I don’t give a fuck who you’re nailing, Tate, but your sister might have a huge problem with it. I can’t have Ayda unhappy here, bro. No matter how much I like you.”
His eyes shot up to mine as his body sagged. “She’s fine. I’ve just spoken with her. It’s all cleared up.”
“Ayda’s alright with…?” I swished my fingers back and forth, signaling at the two of them with a raised brow.
“Well, I still have my testicles in place, and I can’t hear any smashing of plates from the kitchen, so…”
