She shakes her head immediately. “Not sure if you’re trying to piss me off, Rev, but you’re doing one hell of a job.” I glance up and meet her steady, open gaze with no judgment in it. “You want to talk about it?” she asks gently.
I open my mouth to answer but we’re interrupted by the asshat.
“Here you go,” the waiter cuts in, sliding the glasses onto the table, his attention snapping straight back to Brooke. “Anything else I can get you, sweetheart?”
My fingers curl around the edge of the table. “No. We’re good.”
Brooke gives him a polite nod anyway. “Thanks.”
He grins at her like he just won something and finally walks away.
My jaw locks as I wrap my hand around the glass and take a long pull, the burn grounding me just enough to keep my mouth shut.
Brooke takes a smaller sip while keeping her eyes on my face when she sets the glass back down. “Tell me what’s going on, Rev,” she says quietly.
FOURTEEN
BROOKE
I wrapboth hands around the glass because I need something steady to hold onto, and because it gives me an excuse not to fidget like I’m twelve and sitting in the principal’s office. Rev is across from me, broad shoulders tight under his jacket, jaw set like he’s biting down on every thought he doesn’t want to say out loud. He looks like he’s been fighting with himself since before we even left Bella’s house, and watching him sit there like this makes something in my chest ache.
The waiter picked the wrong night to flirt with me, and he picked the wrong man to do it in front of. I noticed the look and the way his eyes kept landing on me. I also noticed the way Rev’s whole body changed the second it happened, like he went from stressed to ready to break someone’s teeth. He ordered for both of us before I could even get a word out, and I didn’t argue because, honestly, I didn’t want to. Not tonight. Not after the last week of forcing myself to do hard things on purpose.
Rev takes a drink and when he sets the glass down his hand lingers around it. His knuckles are wrapped, gauze peeking under the tape, and even that makes me feel weirdly protective.He’s hurt. He’s tense. He’s trying so hard not to be obvious about either.
We drink and the silence stretches, but this time it’s different. It’s not awkward. It’s loaded. Rev lets out a slow breath and leans back, then forward again, restless like sitting still hurts. His gaze drops to the table, then lifts back to me like he’s deciding whether or not to say what’s really on his mind.
I blink, caught by the simple bluntness of it. Not accusing. Not soft either. Just honest in a way that lands right in my chest.
“Rev…”
“I’m not saying you owed me anything,” he cuts in quickly, frustration flickering across his face, more at himself than me. “I’m saying I would’ve answered.”
Something tight loosens and tightens all at once. I don’t look away this time. “I know you would have.”
The space between us fills with everything neither of us says. The bar noise hums around us, glasses clinking somewhere behind me, a low murmur of voices drifting in and out, but it feels like we’re sitting in a smaller world, just the two of us and the truth sitting heavy on the table.
Without really thinking about it, I reach across and take his hand.
His skin is warm. Rough. Familiar in a way that shouldn’t be familiar.
My fingers brush the edge of the bandage wrapped around his knuckles, tracing the tape lightly. “What happened here?”
A faint flush creeps up his cheeks, but he doesn’t pull away. His thumb shifts against my palm, slow and absent. “Got hurt at work,” he mutters. “Wasn’t paying attention.”
I lift a brow at him. “That’s not like you.”
“No,” he admits quietly.
My fingers linger a second longer than necessary, gentle, almost careful. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he says, but it’s not as solid as it usually is.
I study his face, the tightness in his jaw, the way his shoulders are still carrying something heavy even sitting here across from me. He looks tired in a way sleep doesn’t fix. Edgy. Like he’s wound too tight and doesn’t quite know how to let it go.
“Rough day?” I ask softly.
His mouth curves, but there’s no humor in it. “Something like that.”
