“I cannot,” she said.“This is my favorite thing that has happened in weeks, and my bar was literally set on fire, so I need this.”
I laughed despite myself.
She sobered just enough to ask, “Did Swift get mad?”
That answer came easy.“Of course not.”No hesitation.No doubt.“He was nice about it,” I said.“He said it was fine or whatever.”
Tempi studied me.“And do you regret it?”
That one took me a second.I leaned back against the counter and crossed my arms loosely.“My body regrets it,” I admitted.
Tempi barked out a laugh so loud that Wheels glanced toward the kitchen.
I pointed at her.“You asked.”
“I did, and thank you for your honesty.”
I shook my head, smiling even while I felt heat crawl up my neck.“But I know I made the right choice,” I added.“At least I think I did.”
Tempi’s expression softened again.“Then you probably did.”
I nodded once.
Then the smile fell a little as the other thing crept back in.
The less fun thing.
“Swift thinks Tyson had something to do with the shooting.”
Tempi’s face changed immediately.Not shocked.“You know something.”
She exhaled and rubbed her palm over her jeans.“Twister said the same thing.”
I stared at her.“What?”
She lifted both hands.“Not in an accusing-him-forever kind of way.Just… the timing looks bad, Britta.”
“I know it looks bad,” I said quickly.“But Tyson didn’t do it.”
Tempi nodded right away.“I know.”
I blinked.“You do?”
“Of course I do,” she said.“He’s your brother.He’s a pain in the ass, but he’s notthatkind of pain in the ass.”
That made me snort a little.“Good description.”
She smiled.“Look, Twister and the club are trying to get to the bottom of all of this.They’re going to look at every angle, every person, every possibility.That doesn’t mean they’re going to go around hurting anyone they think might be part of The Ledger.”
I looked down at my shoulder and rolled it slowly, trying to work out the stiffness.“So I shouldn’t worry?”
“You can worry a little,” Tempi said.“It’s your brand.But don’t spiral.”
Too late for that.
“When do you go back to the doctor?”she asked.
“Tomorrow,” I said.“Stitches out.Check-up.”
