“Doesn’t matter what the time span is. I’m older, so I’m wiser too. That’s just how it works. What I was gonna say is, Mom would be real disappointed in you right now. She didn’t raise you to be this guy. The one drinking himself into oblivion at the bar while watching everyone else live their lives. You’re better than that. You know it. Mom knew it. I know it. And so does Billie.”
All my vital organs seize at the same time. I’m unable to so much as blink or swallow for a full beat. I wonder if I’m having a stroke. The pain that gathers in my middle is unreal, like I’ve been kicked square in the chest by an ornery horse.
Apparently animal therapy worked wonders on me. Would psychological therapy—whatever the term is for the kind you do on a couch—work too?
“You’re right,” I wheeze, putting a hand over my heart. “That hurts.”
Duke’s eyes are sad. “It should. I’m rooting for you. We all are. But you gotta make some changes, Ryder, if you’re ever gonna get what you want. What youreallywant, deep down there.” He taps my chest. “Mama didn’t raise no chickenshit, yeah?”
I laugh, even as my eyes burn.
Before I can fight him on the shit he just said, though, Duke turns and heads for the dance floor.
I watch, a horrible weight in my center, as he takes Wheeler’s hand and leads her toward the band. They make a handsome couple two-stepping cheek to cheek, the way Mom and Dad used to do in the kitchen after supper.
Aw, hell, now Billie is leading that bull rider to the dance floor. The band is playing a slow song, so she and the asshole start to sway together. They turn, allowing me a glimpse of his hands at her tailbone, his fingertips inching down her ass.
I see red.
I see myself launching over the bar and grabbing his shirt and telling him to stop pawing at my girl.
I see her crying.
I see Colt coming for me with his fists. Or a gun.
And still, I can’t look away.Damn it, I should be the one dancing with her.
The girls join them on the dance floor. It’s Mollie’s first night out since the baby was born, so she’s ready to party. Wheeler looks adorable dancing with her not-so-little bump alongside Sally.
Ava and Sawyer show up. They stop by the bar to say hello. My brother gives me a weird look, but then Ava is yanking him toward the band. I wave him away, a silent affirmation that I’m okay.
Only I’m definitely not okay when Billie’s eyes lock on mine from the dance floor, making my stomach nosedive. Her eyes bulge and those red lips part, and I wonder what she’s thinking.
If I were her, I’d be mad as a hornet that the guy who turned her down is still ogling her from across the room like a creeper.
I have no fucking right.
But Ican’t look away.
I also can’t seem to move. Every time I convince myself that I need to either walk out or walk over there and cut in, my legs won’t budge.
I can tell it pisses off Billie, because after a song or two, she really starts to go for it with Z guy. He holds her hips as she grinds against him when Frisky Whiskey plays its signature cover of “Wobble.” I nearly black out when she wraps her hand around his nape, pulling him closer.
He’s a dead man if he kisses her.
He doesn’t. But she looks like she sure as hell wouldn’t mind if he did.
I have enough sense to quit drinking. I don’t wanna bethatguy, the one who needs to be carried out of here after he pukes his guts out. I ask Tallulah for a water.
What if he takes advantage of her?
What if she gets too drunk?
I stand there, and I glower at him with all my might, indulging in the fantasy that I’m sticking around to save her. Even though Billie Wallace has never needed saving and likely never will.
Every so often she looks my way. And every time she does, she seems to double her efforts to make me wanna die. She plays with his hair. She slides her hand inside his shirt. She leans in and whispers in his ear.
I stand there for hours. Or maybe minutes, I don’t know.
