I need to get her the hell out of here.
I grab her hand. “We’re leaving,” I tell her, and Lani, and fucking creepy ass Brody, and whoever the hell else is listening. No one tries to stop me.
Beth is complacent, and I think she would walk out with a stranger if one was willing to remove her from the situation.
Fucking Falco.
“Come on, Bea,” I breathe into her ear, and I lead her out of the crowded bar.
She doesn’t say anything. She just follows me.
I don’t want to take her back to her dorm, because I don’t want her to be alone yet. She needs to talk to someone, and I’m more than prepared to wait until she’s ready to do it.
I cross Lincoln Avenue and lead her to the far corner of Veteran’s Park, where it’s a little less crowded and easier to get a cab. I raise my hand and one stops for me instantly. I open the back door and gesture for Beth to get in. She doesn’t ask where we’re going. She doesn’t say anything at all.
I tell the driver to take us to Smithy’s Diner. It’s still early enough that it shouldn’t be too busy yet, but once the bars close around two a.m., the drunk coeds start stumbling in to order late-night junk food.
I lead Beth to a booth in the back, where no one will bother us, just in case. I order two cups of coffee, and add milk and two sugars to hers, the way she likes it. She takes the mug, but doesn’t sip. She just kind of stares at it.
“I’m gonna need you to say something, kid,” I tell her. The silence is freaking me out.
“I’m sorry,” she mouths.
I shake my head. “No. You’re not fucking sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about, Bea. But you’re upset, and I need you to talk to me, okay?”
Her gaze finally abandons the coffee to meet mine. “I was just surprised, I guess,” she murmurs.
“I get it. But you know he’s here. And you saw him when he showed up at the BEG party,” I remind her. Why was this time so shocking?
I watch her long, delicate neck move with her anxious swallow. “But, he wasn’t there for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s here for his spot on the soccer team. And he showed up at BEG because…well, I don’t know why. He probably just heard about a cool party and decided to go. But tonight…”
I resist the urge to interrupt her. Because she’s wrong. She’s so damned wrong. She has no idea what she’s worth and it’s all that fucker’s fault. I don’t care if it took him this long to wake the fuck up; Beth’s ex wouldn’t show up at her school, at the first party and bar she’s gone out to, unless he’s here for more than fucking soccer, an excuse I didn’t really buy for a moment.
“I saw him walk in, and right away he was looking for something. And then he saw me, and just marched right over, and I realized he’d been looking for me. Which made no sense. But then he started asking me to talk.”
“So you were shocked silent because your ex wanted to talk to you?” How does she not understand that of course Falco would want to talk to her. He didn’t want to give her up in the first place—he just also didn’t want to give up his shot at bagging a bunch of girls in college. And when faced with the ultimatum, he chose the latter. But three years later, he’s no doubt been there and done that, and now he’s here, and if he had half a brain, he’d be bending over backward for even the slightest chance at winning her back. Of course, if he had half a brain, he wouldn’t have let her go in the first place, a fact I suspect he’s finally realized.
“David, you don’t get it. He dumped me. You know that. But he didn’t just break up with me—he cut me off completely. He stopped taking my calls, ignored my texts. It was like I stopped existing.”
Guilt crushes my chest until I find it hard to breathe, and I have to close my eyes for a moment to get my bearings.
“Why would he want to talk now?” She’s confused, but she’s also scared and unsure. Which unnerves me deeply. Falco nearly destroyed her once, and she can’t give him the power to hurt her again. I won’t let her.
“I don’t know, Bea. But whatever his motivation, he doesn’t deserve you, okay? In any capacity. He didn’t then, and he doesn’t now.”
“I know that,” she says automatically, but already I know she doesn’t believe it.
“Your creepy stalker was right about one thing, Bea. You don’t owe Falco a goddamned thing.”
* * *
We move on from the topic of Falco, and Beth gradually cheers up, eventually deciding that she’s hungry. I take her appetite as a victory.
She can’t decide between pancakes and french toast, so we order both and share.
