Page 4 of Bullied Pregnant Mate

Chapter 2 - Jenks

The background noise in Shelley’s is a low rumble of conversation, occasionally broken by loud bursts of laughter. Behind the sound of revelry, a live singer croons softly, the light strains of her guitar complementing the familiar, comfortable atmosphere.

I don’t let any of it distract me as my fingers tighten on the dart’s metal edge. The light plastic feathers brush against my palm as I narrow my eyes at the target and square my shoulders. I hold my breath for a second, then flick my hand forward, propelling the dart at the board, where it hits dead center.

“You owe me a shot, Kyle!” I yell, pointing at him. “That’s three for three!”

“I’d like to say I missed you while you were out of town,” Kyle mutters. “But my wallet sure hasn’t.”

“Wasn’t my idea to play for shots, bro,” I say, laughing. “That’s on you!”

Kyle grumbles as he gets out his card to order another three shots. I sit down beside him at the bar while Jack gets up to claim the darts.

“What have you been doing since you got back?” Kyle asks me. “You had a full-time job over in Silverton, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I did,” I answer, throwing back the shot of Kentucky bourbon in one gulp. “It was supposed to be part-time to support Sam, but my cocktails were so popular, I ended up working every night.”

“Do you miss it?”

“A little,” I answer, shrugging. “I’d be happy to do something like that again. I should keep myself busy.”

“I’m sure Bae will find something for you.”

“Don’t threaten me,” I groan, shaking my head. “The last thing I want is to get harnessed into working at the sporting goods store. I’ll go insane.”

“Could be worse. Imagine ending up in Jack’s warehouse.”

“Oh, hahaha,” Jack says sarcastically. “It’s all fun and games until you have to buy the next round.”

“Wait, what?” Kyle says.

“Almost perfect score, dude. I only missed one shot. If you can’t beat me, then drinks are on you again.”

Kyle grumbles again as he gets up and takes the darts. I toast him with my empty glass, and he gives me the finger.

“How’s it been up at the big house by yourself?” Jack asks, picking up his drink to finish the shot in one gulp. “We haven’t had a big party there since… well, since—”

“The funeral,” I finish for him. My fingers tighten on the shot glass, and I put it down before I shatter it. Sweat has broken out down my sides, and my breath is caught in my throat.

Up until then, it was all okay. We could have negotiated peace. But then they attacked us, at our most vulnerable, and they used our trust in them to decimate most of my pack.

“Hey,” Jack says softly, putting a hand on my shoulder. “None of it was your fault.”

“Of course not. It was just my house, my land, my responsibility, my oversight that gave them the opportunity to sneak up on us. It’s not on me at all.”

“Jenks, it’s not.”

I shake my head, looking at the floor as emotions swell inside me. “I have to look at the graves every day,” I say, my voice low.

“We didn’t have to have the funeral there,” Jack says. “Bae told you—”

“Yeah, I know what he told me,” I snap. “But I wanted it there. I wanted to remind myself, every day, that life isn’t a fucking full-time party, okay? If I had taken the threat seriously, maybe this didn’t have to happen.”

“You lived in Silverton, and worked there,” Jack says. “They were your friends, and they betrayed you. It’s not your fault.”

They used me to get to my pack. I lived there for years, and all they did was exploit me.

“Yeah, I worked in the bar every night, in my stupid wizard’s hat,” I spit. “I answered all their questions and happily talked about all our defenses and habits, even after things started to get tight. Don’t try and remove me from responsibility here, Jack, because it’s just not going to fly.”

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