‘Sure.’
‘I was thirsty.’
His laugh is short and mirthless. ‘Thirsty. Right.’ He sets the glass down with a loud clink. ‘And Scottie Kerr happened to be there both times.’
I keep my face blank. ‘It’s a pub, Nevin. People stand at bars. It’s what they’re for.’
‘Don’t.’ He pushes off and moves toward me. ‘Don’t fucking patronise me. I saw the way he looked at you.’
‘He wasn’t?—’
‘I saw.’ Another step. His finger jabs the air between us. ‘The whole room saw. My teammates. The MacKenzie execs. Coach. Everyone watching that lumbering prick stare at my girlfriend. And you let him.’
‘I didn’t let anyone do anything. We were talking. About nothing. The weather. The match. Normal things.’
‘Normal.’ He spits the word. ‘There’s nothing normal about the way he eyes you up. You think I’m blind? You think I don’t notice him perving? You’ve been sneaking around with him for months.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘Is it?’ Nevin is close enough that the sharp tang of whisky matches the bite in his voice. ‘Then why did he ask you to leave me?’
I turn to ice.
Fuck. Oh no.
Scottie’s question at the bar. The noise should have muffled it. I thought…
Nevin’s expression twists. Triumph and fury braided together. ‘Yeah. I got that part. Didn’t catch your answer, though. Care to share?’
‘It wasn’t… He didn’t mean?—’
‘He asked you to leave me.’ Each word pins me by the throat. ‘And you didn’t tell him to fuck off. You didn’t walk away. No, you stood there, staring at him with those pathetic doe eyes, as if he’s offering you something I can’t.’
‘Nevin, stop.’ I hate the sound of my voice right now. The desperation. The fear. ‘You’re drunk. You’re imagining things.’
‘Oh, I’m imagining things. That’s rich.’ He laughs. ‘I’m imagining that my slut of a girlfriend would rather spread her legs for some third-class rugby cunt than stay loyal to the man who puts a roof over her head.’
‘Don’t call me that.’
‘What, a horny little slut?’ He tilts his head. ‘If the shoe fits, babe. Sadly, you haven’t touched my cock in months.’
‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘Maybe, maybe not.’ He crowds me. His hand finds my chin and gently tilts my face up. ‘But you’re thinking about it. I can tell. You’ve been thinking about it since that fucking club. Since you danced for him.’
A blazing spike of panic sears through me. The Drum Vault four weeks ago. My hips rolling to the bass line while Scottie watched from the shadows.
Nevin drags a finger along my chin. ‘You looked like a whore that night. Half the club saw you grinding for attention. It was actually painful to witness. I was embarrassed for you.’
‘I was just dancing.’
‘You were advertising. Made me look like a fucking idiot. I didn’t say anything because I wanted to see how long you could lie to me. How stupid you think I am. And now he thinks he can…steal you? Like you’re up for grabs?’
‘I’m not a possession anyone can steal.’ I push the words out. A conscious decision to stop choking down the poison. ‘I’m a person, you know? A human being. You should remember that occasionally.’
His eyes narrow. ‘Excuse me?’
The retort builds behind my teeth. I should trap it there. That’s the bargain. Keep quiet, keep safe.
