Jennalyn looks up, a scowl on her face. “Where are you going? We’re slammed.”
“Bathroom.”
“Can’t it wait?” she asks as she waves her hand, gesturing toward the crowd.
I don’t even argue. I just slip out from behind the bar and head straight for the exit. Cold air slaps me in the face as I push open the door and step outside. My heart’s racing like I just finished running a marathon.
I go straight to my car, popping the trunk, exposing the crate with Hank’s belongings. I take hold of the handles and lift it out before I can think about it. Already knowing that if I hesitate any longer, I won’t give the items back. I prop the crate on my hip as I use my free hand to shut the trunk.
My steps are slow as I walk across the parking lot. I’m hoping he’s at his normal spot working the door when I get back.
He’s not. Carlos is standing at the counter, checking IDs. For a second I debate giving the crate to him and having him give it to Hank for me. It’s the coward's way out, but right now it actually sounds really good. It saves us both an awkward confrontation.
“Hey Carlos, can you give this to Hank for me?”
His eyebrow raises as he clears his throat. “I can. But he’s right behind you.”
I glance over my shoulder to see Hank standing there. Where did he come from? How did I not hear the door open?“I got the counter, Carlos. You can head back inside.” Hank says, his voice cold, and with no acknowledgement of me standing there.
Time slows as he moves behind the counter and checks in the few guys standing there. It’s then I really get a good look at him.
His lip is split with bits of dried blood in the corner of his mouth. One eye is a swollen, black and blue mess. What the fuck happened?
I wait for him to finish with the guys as I set the crate on the edge of the counter and step around to where he is. Once he’s done, my hands instinctively reach out, cradling his face as my thumbs hover over his skin, too afraid to touch him.
“What happened?” My voice is more panicked than I want it to be.
For a split second, something flickers in his eyes. Then his expression hardens. “None of your business.”
The words hit me as if I’d been shot. He reaches up and grips my wrists—not rough, but firm—and pulls my hands away from his face. His eyes drop to the crate I placed on the counter.
“What’s that?” he asks bitterly.
“It’s your fucking shit,” I snap before I can stop myself. He’s already pissed me off with how he answered me when I was concerned about how he looked.
His jaw tightens. And I turn and leave before I break down in tears in front of him.
I rush back inside, pushing through the crowd, moving back behind the safety of the bar. I grab a towel, pretending to wipe something that doesn’t need wiping.
The world keeps moving around me, and I feel Abraham’s eyes on me, but I don’t look at him. I don’t want him asking me again what’s wrong. Because if he does, I don’t think I can lie and say nothing without tears bursting forth.
All I can focus on right now is how Hank looked at me, how he dismissed me, and the knowledge that our relationship is truly over. That the man I love doesn’t feel the same for me.
Chapter 23
Vee
Angerandpainmixtogether, weaving its way through my body with the full intention of wrecking me. My heart’s pounding against my ribs, begging to be ripped from my body. Hank just fucking gutted me with a look and cruel words. I knew Hank was mad at me. Mad at what I wanted, but I never thought he’d speak so harshly to me, or gaze upon me with such hatred. Nothing about how he’s acting right now is like the man I’ve come to know and love. The man who hides from everyone else that he cries at sappy movies, especially when he watches A Walk to Remember and Steel Magnolias. If his Hellion brothers knew, they’d never let him live it down.
It’s taking everything in me not to scream. Seeing the slut—I hate calling a woman that, but fuck if she isn’t one—leaning over the counter, her tits hanging out like a fucking smorgasboard for the men in front of her. Her attention is solely on them and ignoring all the patrons angrily calling to get her attention.
I stomp behind the bar, anger fueling my decision that once I help everyone, I am fucking storming up those stairs and handing in my resignation if she continues to work here.
“What can I get you?” I ask the trio of businessmen, who no doubt came straight here after a day in the office.
“About damn time,” one mutters under his breath, while the other tells me he wants a round of shots.
“Sorry for the wait. I’d love to say she’s new, but it would be a lie. She’s just dumb as shit and lazy.” I try to keep my personal feelings low when I say them, but the man’s laughter and nod of agreement tells me I failed to do that.
