This time, my laugh is loud and derisive. “Coulda fooled me.”
Her eyes narrow on my face, her arms ramrod straight at her sides. “You’re a bastard.”
“Well aware.” I turn, giving her my back as I climb the steps to my front porch. “Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of, Britt.”
“I swear to God, if I find out you’re sleeping with that tramp next door—”
Rage settles heavy in my chest and each limb, and it takes every fucking ounce of willpower not to snap. I know it will do no good, and only fuel Britt’s assumption. So, I keep walking until I get to the front door, the heavy wood slamming closed behind me, and don’t look back once.
Twenty-Five
Louise
“Hey…”
He doesn’t move other than to swirl the tumbler of amber liquor around slowly, the faint light from the moon filtering in through the window next to him glinting off the glass. There’s no other light in the house except one nightlight plugged into the wall in the kitchen, so the living room is cast in deep shadows.
“What are you doing here, Louise?” he asks, his voice low, words drawing out slow as he lifts that glass to his lips. He takes a long swallow, the ice in the bottom of the glass clinking softly.
“You uh, you never said to come over. Everything okay?” I ask, stepping closer.
Zach lowers the highball from his mouth, letting his forearm rest on the arm of the chair he’s reclined in, glass dangling from his fingertips. “Oh yeah. Everything’s great.” He lifts that glass again, taking another swallow. “Go home.”
Ohhhkay. Well, everything is most definitelynot great.
I swallow hard and take another step forward, then shake my head. “No.”
“Go home, Louise,” he says again, his voice sharper this time. He rolls on his spine and sits up in the chair, spreading his knees and leaning forward to rest his elbows on them, highball glass suspended between his fingers.
“I thought you said tequila was your go-to choice for bad days,” I say quietly, ignoring his command and taking another step closer. I nod toward the glass between his hands. “That doesn’t smell like tequila.”
He chuffs out a derisive laugh, and I hate the sound of it. Whatever is wrong… this isn’t the normal Zach. “Bourbon. Needed something stronger than tequila.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Nope,” he says, popping the P and lifting the glass to his mouth again. He drains it, then finally raises his eyes to mine. They’re so incredibly blue, the moonlight highlighting his face on one side. His mouth twists up in a disdainful smirk. My heart twists in my chest painfully. “Go. Home.”
“No,” I say again, my eyes flitting across every inch of his face. “No, Zach.”
“I’m not good company tonight.”
“I can see that,” I whisper, trying for a teasing tone. It falls flat. Oof. “Was umm…was that their mom?”
Zach’s eyes drop from mine to the glass in his hand. He inhales heavily, chest expanding with the breath, and he rolls the tumbler of bourbon around in his fingers, the ice clinking against the glass. He nods.
Taking another small step forward, I ask quietly, “How many of those have you had?”
He snorts another laugh then and pushes to his feet, stepping around me and heading toward the kitchen. I follow a few steps behind as he pours another couple fingers worth of the bourbon into the glass. “Two. Why?”
I shrug, crossing my arms over my stomach. “Just wondering how much catching up I need to do.”
“There is no catching up, because you’re leaving,” he mutters, taking a drink from the freshly poured glass.
“We were supposed to… to—”
He leans his hips against the counter, much like he had last week when he’d come home from the fire. “Yeah, well, plans change, Louise.”
I know whatever is bothering him has everything to do with his ex that showed up earlier, and not me specifically, but the sharp tang of rejection seizes my throat, my chest tightening like its caving in. Rubbing at my sternum, I nod, backing away a step. “Got it.”
