“Go find Henrik and Lincoln in the parking lot,” I told her.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to go unless you’re leaving too.”
“Naomi,” I warned.
Aderyn appeared by our side and offered, “I’ll get her outside.”
I nodded my thanks and gave Naomi’s hand a squeeze before letting her go.
“What happened?” I asked Sam, who looked pissed.
“Hey!” the bartender yelled. “If y’all wanna fight, take it outside.”
We ignored him. On one side of the room, there were Westbrooke Angels shirts. The blue outnumbered green five to one. Sam was currently staring down the two guys who didn’t sport a color for either team.
“Look who it is,” one guy leered when he saw me. “The dickwad that can’t take a punch.”
I frowned. “Do I know you?”
He scoffed and looked at his brother. “Fucking hell, the nerve of you Hawks. Think you own the world after a few easy wins but curl up in the fetal position once you’re going up against a Greate.”
I paused, studying them closely. Everything I knew about my accident had been relayed to me from second-hand accounts. I had to watch security cam footage of the attack. Four guys against one. Winning my case in a court of law had been easy. Of course, the accused weren’t pleased. Alex Greate had been suspended from the league until further notice. I had a restraining order on him. Not on his brothers, though. Both of them looked more than ready to avenge whatever cause they stood for.
“What happened?” I asked Sam in a low voice.
“Came in here threatening us, asking where you were, and then harassed Naomi,” Sam explained without taking his eyes off the two.
I cared little about the other stuff. Once Naomi was mentioned, my fingers curled into a fist.
“Take. It. Outside.” The bartender warned before any of us could throw a punch.
The Greate siblings exchanged knowing smirks. My jaw tightened. I didn’t like how they’d come in here ruining what was supposed to be a good night. And I especially didn’t like the idea of letting them go after messing with Naomi.
Not much thought went into swinging the first punch. Or second and third, for that matter. Fighting on both sides broke out like a faulty dam. The bar was flooded with shouts and screams and warnings from all around.
I pinned one brother underneath me. After getting a few hits in, I felt Naomi’s grip tugging me off the guy on the ground. For a moment, I was out of it. I swung and didn’t let up until there was someone else’s blood on my knuckles. The sight of it broke something in my mind. A memory rushed back so quickly, I got a headache.
Much to Naomi’s relief, I pushed off the guy and backed away.
“Let’s go.” She pulled me through the brawling crowd, unaware of my current epiphany. “They’re calling the cops.”
I numbly followed her out of the bar. We bumped into Lincoln and Henrik at the exit. Both of whom urged us to hurry along the side of the building, going the long way around the parking lot.
The police were already here. Their blue and red lights flashed as they parked at the curb.
Naomi shushed the guys as we all crouched behind a bush a fair distance away from the bar.
“What the hell happened?” Lincoln hissed, ignoring Naomi’s glare.
“I know where the photos are,” I said to no one in particular.
“What photos? What do photos have to do with this?” Henrik asked, while staring at a group of people who were currently being dragged out of the bar.
Lincoln and Naomi looked at me like I’d lost my mind. On the contrary, I’d found it. Or, at least, part of it. I remembered that night now. What happened before the game, during, and after. I remembered where I put the evidence.
“I need to get to my laptop,” I said, sounding loopy even to my own ears.
“What the hell, Finn?” Naomi hissed. She looked beyond upset. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she wanted to clock me as hard as the Greate brothers had. “What is wrong with you? Why would you do that? After everything that’s happened…I…what the hell?”
