“Oh no,” Kit mutters.
“Oh yes.”
Madison reaches their table and immediately drapes herself over Jesse. He looks uncomfortable, trying to lean away, but she’s persistent. She’s saying something I can’t hear, but her hand on his chest, her body pressed against his, says it all.
“Damn that’s bold,” Kit observes. “That woman is pure trouble.”
Jesse’s trying to politely extract himself. I can see it in his body language. Boone’s saying something that looks like “back off” based on his expression. Wyatt’s just watching with that stone face he gets when he’s angry but controlling it.
Then Madison pulls out her phone.
“She’s not gonna—” Kit says.
“She is,” I confirm.
Madison wraps her arm around Jesse’s neck, pulls him close, and before he can react, she’s kissing him. The flash goes off. Multiple flashes actually, because she’s taking a burst of photos.
My beer bottle hits the bar harder than intended.
Jesse shoves her away, but it’s too late. She’s got her photos. She’s already looking at her phone, probably picking the best one to post with some caption about “reconnecting with my first love” or equally nauseating bullshit.
I’m moving before I realize I’ve made the decision. Not toward them, toward the door. I need out. Need air. Need to not watch Jesse’s ex stake a claim on something I should not give a shit about but do.
“Callie, wait—” Kit calls, but I’m already pushing through the crowd.
Behind me, I hear a crash. I glance back to see Boone has stood up too fast, slipped in what looks like spilled beer, and taken out a table on his way down. Glasses shatter. People jump back. The band doesn’t even pause, just plays louder like this is part of the show.
Jesse’s calling my name, but Madison’s between us, her phone still out, probably already uploading those photos to every social media platform she’s on.
I make it to the door and to the parking lot. The cool air hits my hot face and I realize I’m angrier than I have any right to be. Jesse’s not mine. None of them are mine. I don’t get to be jealous when his ex makes a move.
But I am. Jealous and angry and hurt in a way that makes no absolutely no sense.
I’m such an idiot.
“Callie!” Jesse’s voice carries across the parking lot.
I don’t turn around. I get in my truck, start the engine, and peel out of the parking lot faster than I should. In my rearview mirror, I see Jesse standing where my truck was, Madison probably somewhere behind him with her phone and her photos and her claim on him that predates anything we sort of had.
“I’m the sane one here,” I mutter to myself, gripping the steering wheel. “I don’t need this shit. I’ve got enoughproblems without adding jealous ex-girlfriends to the mix.”
My phone buzzes in the cup holder. Jesse calling. I don’t answer.
It buzzes again. A text this time.
Jesse: That wasn’t what it looked like.
Another buzz.
Boone: Jesse literally pushed her out of the way. It was beautiful. Also, I’m banned from the bar for a month.
Another one
Wyatt: Come back.
I turn my phone off and keep driving.
I don’t need this right now. Don’t need the complication of them, of Madison, of the whole town watching and waiting for more Thompson vs. McCoy shitshow. I’ve got enough trouble with Dad’s secret romance and Rita’s crime spree and trying to figure out what to do with my life.
