Barrett pulls upoutside the bar in seven minutes. I spend the entire time with my nerves on edge, sure that Dillon—or someone else—is going to come looking for me any minute. The relief is so overwhelming that I barely notice the passenger as I dive into the back seat of his truck, fumbling for my belt.
Barrett doesn’t linger, pulling straight out into traffic. When I finally get my seat belt clicked, I look up and find his eyes on me. “You okay, Charlie Girl?”
I open my mouth to tell him I am—which is a complete lie—but then my attention catches on Alec, his dark eyes fixed on me from between the seats. “Oh. Hey, Alec,” I greet weakly. “I’m sorry for interrupting your night.”
I don’t know Barrett’s boss well, having only run into him a few times. He’s older than us by about fifteen years, but he’s ridiculously hot, with close-cropped black hair and swirls of ink running down his arms.
“No sweat. I’ve got an early start tomorrow, so I was ready to call it anyway.” He runs a hand over the dark shadow covering his jaw. “Hope you don’t mind dropping me off first.” His eyes seem almost black in the dim interior of the truck, concern flashing across them as he watches me.
“I don’t mind,” I say, ignoring the way the words catch in my throat. I flick a look between the two of them. “It’sjust a bad night.” My smile is wavering, and neither Barrett nor Alec looks convinced, but they don’t press for more details.
I turn my focus out the window, the drive passing by in a blur of lights and shadows. Barrett pulls up outside Alec’s building, and they talk quietly to each other before Alec looks at me.
“Hope your night improves, Charlie,” he says, his voice almost gentle. The kindness is enough to have tears springing to my eyes. I blink rapidly, refusing to let them fall. He doesn’t give me a chance, giving one last nod, and then he’s gone, the door shutting behind him.
“Alright, Charlie Girl,” Barrett says once Alec has gone inside his building. “Give me the lowdown.”
I don’t bother moving to the front seat. I can’t look him in the eye as I recap everything that happened tonight—everything Iheard. By the time we walk through the door to his studio apartment, Barrett is breathing as heavily as a bull about to charge. His nostrils are flared wide, and his face a concerning shade of tomato.I watch with a mixture of amusement and wariness, wondering if I should put his breakables away before he starts pawing at the ground.
At least my dress is purple.
Butthatthought has their laughter filling my ears, my chest tightening as renewed anguish steals my breath.
“I swear to God,” Barrett rumbles as he haphazardly kicks off his shoes. He throws his jacket over the back of the couch before heading to the small kitchen, emptying his pockets in a pile on the counter. I watch him, resisting the urge to straighten up after him.
This isn’t my place, and Barrett’s mess is not my problem.
I have enough problems, and I refuse to take on any more.
“When I see that fuck-knuckle, I’m gonna punch him square in the face.”
“Fuck-knuckle,” I repeat in a whisper, a speck of amusement trying to creep in past everything else.
Barrett catches the sound, turning a fierce glower on me. “I’m serious, Charlie Girl. What happened tonight is so beyond not okay, it’s not fucking funny. You get that, right? And don’t try to tell me it’s just the assholes he hangs with.” He closes the space between us in three steps, his bear paws landing on my shoulders and pinning me in place. He even bends his knees, practically shoving his nose against mine just so he can catch my eyes with his. “What Dillon did? The way he sat there and saidnothing? Laughing with them? It’s worse than anything they could’ve said.”
I swallow. “I know.” I hate how weak my voice is, howhurt, but I’m not lying. There’s no sugarcoating this for myself, no dressing it up in a pretty bow and convincing myself it doesn’t matter.
There’s no world where I go back to Dillon, pretending this didn’t happen. I’ve spent years conforming, making myself as small as possible, as if hiding in the shadows of the world around me made me safer from the harsh words of those who were supposed to love me unconditionally.
Dillon became a space of safety for me—one where I was free to be myself. I could justbewith him, knowing he wouldn’t hurt me.
That belief was destroyed tonight. Now, I am left with shredded self-esteem, every single ounce of confidence I have gained since meeting him butchered into oblivion.
“Do you?” Barrett demands, one brow flicking up doubtfully. “If he was acting like that while youwere just in the bathroom, imagine all the times youweren’tthere. This wasn’t the first time. And the shit that bitch was saying about Dillon and the other girl? Marley?”
“Marisa.”
“Who cares? If he had feelings for someone else and never told you, but then continued to spend time with her…that’s not okay.” Barrett’s breathing hard, like he’s just gone for a two-mile sprint. “He’s been crossing boundaries since the start. Relationships are supposed to be based on honesty, respect, and communication. Right? And it doesn’t seem like Dillon’s ever given that to you.” His eyes never leave mine, blazing with a mix of outrage and sincerity.
“Oh, because you’re such an expert?” I snark defensively, wriggling out from under his hands. The truth is weighing on my shoulders, but hearing it from his mouth makes it all harder to swallow.
Barrett shuts down, his expression going blank. “Whatever,” he mumbles, turning and heading across the apartment. “Take my advice or don’t.”
Regret gnaws at me as I follow, watching as he goes to the fridge, pulls out orange juice, and fills two glasses. I lean against the counter just as he slides one over to me—looking after me even when I’ve hurt him.
“I’m sorry, Barry,” I say, ignoring the glare he tosses my way at the nickname. “I shouldn’t have snapped.”
Barrett mimics my pose, leaning his hip against the counter and facing me. “You should turn your phone off. Don’t message him or anything. Let him stew.”
