“What did you do?”
“It’s what I won’t do,” I reply, nodding a thanks to Pete when he slides a coffee and a jar of peanut butter onto the bar. Drew raises his brows in question. “Sarah,” I answer. “He wants me to bring her back.”
“Oohhh.”
I laugh. I’m glad someone understands.
“Yeah,” Drew breathes. “That’s an easy no.”
“Is it?” I grab my peanut butter in need of a hit.
“Is she all right?”
“No,” I sigh. “Far from it, and it really fucking sucks that I’m the only person on this fucking planet who can fix that.”
“By letting her back into The Manor?”
“By letting her back into The Manor,” I mimic.
“And your life,” Drew adds quietly.
“Exactly. I can’t do it, especially not now.”
Drew’s smooth face wrinkles. “Especially not now, what?”
I chomp on my lip, trying to hold my tongue, trying to... not trying at all. “Especially now that Ava’s pregnant.”
This must be one of a handful of times that I’ve rendered Drew Davies speechless. His blue eyes blink rapidly, and then as if his brain has caught up and reminded him of a previous conversation we recently had, he gasps. “That’s fucked up, Jesse.”
Shame eats me alive. “I appreciate the circumstances aren’t ideal, but?—”
“Ideal?”
“What’s ideal?” Sam asks, appearing at the bar, looking between us.
“Are you going to tell him, or am I?” Drew asks.
Fuck me, am I on trial? I motion to Drew with a limp hand on a tired breath. “Go for it, Dad.”
“Ava’s pregnant,” he declares.
“Oh, my man, that’s awe—” A frown hops onto Sam’s forehead. “Wait.” A recoil. “She’s pregnant because you stole her pills.” A gasp. “Fucking hell, Jesse.”
I fold over the bar and bury my face in my palms.
“Yes, you hide from the judgments,” Drew says. “As you should.”
“I’m not proud,” I mutter. “I realize I’ve done wrong.”
“Do you?” Sam blurts. “Do you really?”
“I don’t think he does,” Drew pipes in.
I stare into my darkness.
“Me neither,” Sam breathes.
That’s it. Enough. “You’re both barred,” I bark, standing abruptly and marching out of the bar. “You can leave now.”