Page 73 of Love in Pieces

“Not much else,” I say flatly.

She inches closer, her arm now pressed against mine. She rests a hand on my wrist. “Okay, well, I would love to hang out some more. I miss you. Don’t you miss me?”

I sigh. “I’ve been busy. Still am.” I take a step away, pulling my arm from her grasp.

She inches closer again. “Well, I could keep you busy instead.” She keeps her voice low and sultry. Before Abby came along, I probably would have caved. Now, it makes me cringe.

Logan comes back with drinks in hand. It’s about time. I ignore Aubrey's comment and change my focus to pretend like I’m people-watching. Logan and Aubrey strike up a conversation, something about which vodka goes better in a Bloody Mary. I’ve since stopped listening. I try hard to ignore the hand she places on my arm when she thinks something is funny, and the little lilt she adds when she says my name. It’s all too much. I keep wishing it was Abby touching my arm, her flirty giggle cutting through the clinking of glasses and monotonous talking.

On their third trip to the bar, I decide I need some air. The early morning fog feels so much better than the tense air I can’t seem to avoid today.

A guy and a girl come wandering out of the bar, drinks in hand, displaying every bit of PDA. He hugs her waist tight while the girl lights up a cigarette. They move past me to the other smokers, but something about the guy catches my eye. Blonde hair, long and greasy. Tall, but not quite as tall as me. Lanky, like a bean pole. He fluffs his hair as he turns to reveal the face I swore I would end if I ever got the chance. And what are the odds? Here we are.

“Hey, asshat,” I yell, taking a step closer to them. The whole group turns. Everyone goes silent.

“Asshat?” Sam says, taking a sip of his beer. And then he laughs. “Wow. Look who it is.” He whispers something into the girl's ear, causing her to blush and hands her his bottle. If only she knew. He takes a few steps closer, a little more than an arm's length away. He crosses his arms over his chest, looking more relaxed than I feel. “What a pleasant surprise. Did Abby send you? Is she too much of a pussy to take care of her own problems now?” He smirks, turning around, the girl giggling behind him.

Just as he starts turning back, I wind up and hurl a fist into the side of his cheek. He stumbles backward, far enough that he braces himself up with one hand, the other holding his cheek. He recovers quickly, swinging hard, barely missing my nose, and leaving his other cheek wide open. I swing my other fist, connecting with the other side of his face, forcing him to fall onto his back. He scrambles backward, attempting to recover, but he loses his footing as he tries to stand. He lands on his arm, holding a hand up, asking me to stop. He spits blood onto the gravel. “What the fuck, man!” He yells, wiping his nose.

When I respond, it comes out calmer than I expect. “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what you did.”

“That bitch shouldn’t have disobeyed me. I gave her everything. And she decides it’s not enough anymore?” He chuckles while he gets to his feet again. “She’s gone crazy. Thinking you can do better than me. I see the shithole you live in. You’re a bartender for Christ's sake.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” My blood boils hotter somehow, pulsing rapidly.

“Really. Then tell me. Because Abby? I’ll warn you. She’s a lot.” He rubs his jaw, that stupid smile still on his face. It takes everything in me not to smack it off him.

“A lot? Yes. She is a lot. A lot of woman. A lot of hard-working, dedicated beauty. She’s gorgeous, inside and out. She’s more patient and trusting than she should be after a jackass like you.” I take a small step closer, the gravel crunching beneath my feet. “She’s talented and clever. She’s hilarious and so quick-witted I can’t keep up with her half the time. So, yes. She is a lot. But she’s a lot better than you’ll ever be.”

Sam raises his brows, placing his hands on his cheeks. “Aww, pretty boys in love.”

Is that what this is? Maybe I am. Is that even possible after such a short time?Focus.Now is not the time to battle my subconscious.

Sam is laughing. The girl he’s with is still giggling behind him, a flirty look on her face. Smoke whirls in the air as she takes a long pull of her cigarette. She’s got to be drunk if she’s still here with him after this.

“You can wipe that worthless smile off your face. Otherwise, I’ll do it for you.” I keep my face flat and cold so he can’t see how much he’s aggravating me. He doesn’t need more ammo. I look down at my red knuckles, rubbing them with my other hand.

By the time I hear the gravel shift under his feet, it’s too late. Almost as soon as my head drops, Sam’s fist drives into my left temple. I falter a few steps back but quickly recover, ignoring the pain searing through my head. Forming a tight fist, I swing at Sam’s head but miss. I grab his arm, deflecting his next shot. My knee comes up, connecting with his rib cage, but he wraps his arms around my neck, pulling both of us to the ground.

“Dallas!” A familiar girl's voice yells somewhere behind me. I ignore it, sights fully set on preparing this man for his grave.

Someone pulls me off Sam, another man pulling Sam back. I turn around ready to swing, pissed that I couldn’t get my final blow in.

Logan backs away, holding both hands up. “Woah, dude. Chill.”

I rub my hands. The small gravel pieces now embedded in my palm, sting. I’ve never been the best at fighting. Never had a reason to. I’ve taken my share of swings over stupid shit. It never went on for more than a punch or two. Now I’m really regretting not having more practice.

“We’re leaving,” Logan says, walking toward my car. Aubrey looks at me with a grief-stricken face, then looks to Sam, who wipes his bloody nose on his arm. She follows Logan, hanging her head. When I don’t follow, Logan turns quickly, a harshness to his voice. “Dallas. Let’s go. Now. Before the cops get called, or let's be honest, show up at this point.”

I shake my head, but I know he’s right. The last thing I need right now is a record. So, I drag my feet toward my car, forcing myself to calm down as much as possible before I have to drive.

“Yep, fuck off. Just like she did. Maybe you two were made for each other.” I hear Sam scramble to his feet. “I should have finished you off at that party. You’re dead, you hear me? Both of you!”

I pause a few feet from my car. Fists clenched, jaw tight, ready to turn and fight again. He can threaten me. But threatening Abby is where I draw the line.

“Ignore him,” Logan says, more annoyed than anything. I close my eyes, focusing on taking a deep breath. “Don’t make me drag you into this car.”

“I’ll uh ... I’ll find a different ride home.” Aubrey backs away a few feet, hesitantly heading for the door of the bar.

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