“Let me go,” she snaps, twisting and kicking like she might actually try to knee me.
I tighten my grip just enough to keep her steady. “This ain’t a battle you can win. I’ve gotten tantrum control on lock the past few months.”
She stills. “I’m not throwing a tantrum.”
“Yes, you are,” I say calmly. “Now if you’ll stop, we can talk.”
Her shoulders rise and fall as she drags in deep breaths. She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t look at me either.
“I didn’t want to do this here tonight,” I say, my patience thinning, “but you’re the one bringing it up, so here goes.”
I loosen my hold, giving her space, and she turns to face me.
“What the fuck do you mean, that’s not the way you remember it?”
She hugs herself tighter, eyes finally lifting to mine. “You know exactly what I mean.”
I step closer. “That’s the thing: I have no fucking clue what you mean.”
She swallows hard. “Stop it. That’s not funny. If you want to talk about it, we’ll talk about it. But don’t you dare pretend you don’t know.”
Frustration boils over. I scrub a hand down my face. “You’re drunk. We’ll talk later.”
I glance over my shoulder toward the door. “Where are they?”
“Who?”
“Your sisters. Your cousins. Your—” I grit my teeth. “Your date. I’m not leaving you alone in the parking lot.”
She shakes her head. “I’m a big girl, and I’m not drunk. Tipsy at best.”
She sways on her feet, proving my point, and I raise my brows.
“See. You’ve had too much to drive,” I say.
“I’m not driving. I just came out for air.”
“Well, you got air. Come on. Let’s go back inside,” I say, extending my hand to her.
“No.”
Of course not.
“Stormy—”
“No. We’re here, and I want to talk now.”
I blow out a breath. “Fine.” I meet her gaze head-on. “Why the hell does Case think you and I hooked up in high school?”
Her lip quivers.
“Caison knows?” she whispers.
“That’s not the point,” I snap. “Knows what?”
She lets out a shaky laugh that turns into a hiccuping sob. “What, are you afraid I’m gonna turn you in to the cops or something?”
Cops?
