He’s still staring at me.
This is my fault.
I asked to come here. I told him to make it a team activity. I knew there was zero chance Silas would see this opportunity come through his email—which he monitors as if the fate of the free world depends on it—andnotjump at the chance to have dinner here tonight, even if he had to use a knife and cook some of it himself.
And then I made the two of them sit next to each other.
Silas might be the one who bumped him—and I’d bet it was onpurpose—but I was the one who put everything else in motion to make this exact moment possible.
Stop it, Goldie, I order myself.You are not responsible for the world.
Fletcher looks away from me, and you could legitimately hear a mouse drop a flake of cheese in the silence that descends even heavier as he turns to look at Silas.
I gulp.
Pretty sure everyone else in the room does too.
My friends will be writing my brother’s obituary at our next dinner.
And the way I have zero doubt about the validity of that statement is what hurtles me into motion.
I grab Fletcher’s arm and tug him toward me, but he is a steel-plated boulder and I can’t move him.
Which means leaping between the two of them is my only option to prevent a murder tonight.
And so that’s what I do.
9
Fletcher
The wanker.Burned. My mustache. Off.
I don’t know what Goldie says to make him run away before his face can meet my fist. I don’t know what else we’re supposed to cook the rest of the night. I don’t know what my baby teammates are saying without saying it out loud.
I just know I’mdonehere tonight.
“You get that?” I ask Shade, my voice unrecognizable in my own ears.
He nods, and even he—my gay emo personal paparazzo—looks like he just personally visited the River Styx and will never be the same.
Impressive.
And that fucking noise in the back of my head—at least it’ll lead to ticket sales—can shut the fuck up for the night.
What will Sweet Pea think?
Will she recognize me?
Forget this bullshit.
I’m going home.
“Fletcher, I amso sorry,” Goldie says as I step around her.
I pull off my apron and drop it on the counter, then head for the stairs.
She follows. “I shouldn’t have made you two sit together. Can I—can I do anything to help?”
