Jack looks confused, but then his expression creases into amusement, a hoot escaping him. “Oh,fuck. That’s funny as hell. Might teach Charlie not to listen in on conversations, I guess. Lesson well-fucking-learned.” He shakes his head with a quiet snort. “I don’t even remember half the shit Bliss was saying, but I know it was bad. And it wasn’t even about me.”
I bite my inner cheek, rage curdling in my stomach like sour milk.
“I don’t get why Charlie left, though,” Jack continues. “She should’ve come out and put Bliss in her place. What has running away ever solved?”
I lift the glass to my lips again, my hand shaking. The glass clatters against my teeth, so I set it down, clenching my fingers into a fist to hide the tremble.
“What would’ve happened if she came after Bliss?” I demand coldly. “Bliss would have torn her to shreds, and you know it. And that’s excluding the fact that she had everyone on her side at that table.” I drop my chin to my chest, muttering, “Including me, apparently.”
Jack blinks, taken aback. “She wouldn’t have…Bliss respects strength, you know that. It’s why she and Marisa get along so well, because Ris always calls her out when she’s taking shit too far. No one else ever has, even us.”
“Marisa tried calling her out,” I say quietly. “It didn’t help.”
“Yeah, well, Bliss and I were drinking before we got there.” Jack thinks back. “Honestly, how bad could it have been? I remember her going after Charlie when she left thetable, and Amber joining in. They were just being their bitchy selves. Nothing unusual for Bliss these days, that’s for sure.”
The noise that leaves me is pure aggravation. “You weren’t any fucking better, asshole. Talking about how I shouldn’t be fucking her because of myimage, like she’s somehow not good enough to be seen with in public.”
Jack’s head jerks at my tone, right before his eyes narrow. “Oh, I get it. Charlie got her feelings hurt, listening to something never meant for her, and now you’re blaming the group?Me?” He scoffs loudly.
“She’s my goddamn girlfriend,” I shout, slamming my fist on the bar. Several heads turn our way, other patrons eyeing us curiously, and the bartender glaring in warning. “The least you assholes could do is show her some respect.” The words land between us like weights, something in Jack’s expression darkening.
“Why would we?” he asks icily. “It’s not like you showed her any.” I open my mouth to argue, but the words die a quick death before I can even think to give them life. He sees it, shaking his head with a wry smile. “Yeah, you weren’t shutting Bliss down, were you? Not really. That’s just like you, Dillon. Never willing to rock the boat when you could just smoothly ride it out without ever getting wet.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, lips strangely numb.
Jack’s eyes are mocking when he simply says, “Yes, you do.” He brings his glass to his mouth, tipping his head back, throat working as he drains it. Once it’s gone, he slams it down and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I’m an asshole,” he announces calmly, as if telling me it just started raining. “I own that shit, and always have. Butyou?” He huffs out a laugh, gaze slicing to me. “You hide behind this mask ofnice, but really, you’re just scared of being left behind.” He narrows his eyes on the bruises on my face, cogs turning in his mind. “Where’s Charlie, Dillon?”
I don’t answer him and, after a moment, Jack nods, tapping his fingers on the wood. “I get it. No girl wants to be with a douche who shit-talks her behind her back.”
I snarl. “Ididn’t?—”
“Yes, you fucking did.” Jack’s tone is neutral, lacking any emotion, and for some reason, that hits harder than anything else. “Your silence spoke for you, man, so now, all you have to do is decide whether you let Charlie find better. Sometimes, the asshole doesn’t get the girl, and maybe it’s your turn to learn that.”
There’s an edge to his voice, something pained. I look away, too torn up on my own problems to give a shit about his. Instead, I watch from the corner of my eye as he raps his knuckles against the bar one last time. And then he’s gone, leaving me staring at my beer, wondering what the fuck I do now.
Chapter 9
Charlie
“What’s wrong with your face?”
I bite back my reluctant smile at Flossie’s demand. She’s spent all morning sending me suspicious glares, but it took her four hours before she finally broke.
“What do you mean?” I ask innocently.
“I mean,” she says slowly, “what’swrongwith yourface?” She turns to face me, pushing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose and cocking a hip out—all sass, all the time. Most people who meet her think she’s a quiet bookworm, and they’re not wrong. But when Flossie’s with her people, she’s a firecracker.
Must be the red hair.
“You never call in sick, and yet you missed two days of work. And now your face—” She lifts a hand, her nail barely missing my nose as she points a finger in my face.
I swat her away with a huff. “My face is normal.”
Flossie lifts her eyebrows. “If you say so.” She turns away, pulling a book out of a cardboard box and dropping it heavily onto the counter, her movements stilted and agitated.
I blow out a breath. “I’m not—It isn’t—” I go still when I stumble on my words. She keeps unpacking books, carefully not looking at me, waiting me out. “Dillon and I broke up.”
