Page 53 of Love Rewritten

The front door chimes when Jordan walks in a few minutes later, happily approaching the bar. “What’s on the agenda for today, boss?”

He and Abby’s heads snap toward each other at once, and when they make eye contact, something like shock and fear coats both of their faces. Neither of them moves for a solid ten seconds.

“Everything okay?” I ask, taking a tentative step toward Abby. I look between them, their eyes still glued in place, bodies still as statues.

Jordan speaks and moves first, barely getting his words out before hurrying into the back. “Yeah, sorry.”

When the kitchen door shuts, Abby lets out a quick heavy breath and looks around, panic striking her features.

“What’s wrong? Do you know him?” I take another slow step toward her, not wanting to startle her further.

She nods frantically. “He—I—we—” The words are so short and fast I almost can’t catch what she’s saying or trying to say.

“Okay, okay. Hold on. Take a breath.” I move around to sit on the seat next to her, but she gets up as I sit down.

“I need some air.” She practically runs out the front door, leaving her things strewn about on the bar top.

I look over at Dylan, who’s been watching the whole thing with very little care about getting caught or not. “I need you to handle the bar for a minute. And watch her stuff.” He nods, so I follow Abby out the front door to find her around the side of the building, hunched down against the red brick wall, hugging her knees. She’s not crying, but she’s definitely panicking. I take a deep breath and crouch down next to her, resting a hand on her knee. I trace light circles over her jeans, hoping the physical sensation will help draw her out of the state she’s in.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long. She leans her head against the brick, her eyes resting on mine. “Sorry, I couldn’t think straight.”

“That’s okay. Do you feel comfortable telling me what all of that was in there?”

She sighs. “He’s the new hire, isn’t he?” I nod, a little confused. “I suppose I can’t really be all that mad at him. He didn’t really do anything wrong. We were all just trying to have fun. But that night …” she trails off, taking a long breath in and letting it out even longer. “He’s one of Sam’s friends—or was—I doubt they stayed friends after that party.”

“Theparty?” I ask. I don’t really need confirmation on it, but the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“Yeah. I decided to go swimming that night. Well, more like skinny dipping.” She holds both hands up like she’s defending herself. “I did manage to keep my underwear on.” She pauses and drops her hands to rest on mine that still trace her knees. That would confirm my suspicions from that night. “I ended up on his, Jordan’s, shoulders for a game of chicken.”

I sit back on my heels, knees digging into the asphalt. I hadn’t expected that. I never asked about everything that happened that night. I didn’t think I needed to know unless she felt the need to tell me. Reopening wounds just didn’t seem like a necessary evil. But I can’t help the gut ache that comes with the idea of her sitting practically naked on Jordan’s shoulders. The irritation isn’t geared toward her. It’s all on Jordan. Especially if he knew she was in a relationship at the time—with his friend. And she was drunk. How delusional do you need to be?

Unfortunately, as much as I’d like to fire him, I can’t. Like Abby said, he didn’t do anything inherently wrong per se.

“Don’t be mad at Jordan. It’s not completely his fault. I was drunk. So was he. Sam gave him a bloody nose for his efforts.”

I can’t believe this thought even popped into my head, but I think that’s the only thing I will ever agree on with Sam.

I hang my head, trying to gather myself enough to not say something stupid. “Okay …” I cannot for the life of me think of what to say.

“It’ll be fine. I’ll move to a different spot in the bar. Just please don’t take whatever anger you have out on him.” I peer at her out of the corner of my eye, and she says, “Don’t look at me like that. You wear your emotions on your face almost as clearly as I do.”

“You’re being far calmer about this than I am.”

“Well, I’ve had some time to process. I’m not upset with him anymore. But that doesn’t mean I want to talk to him either. We can coexist. That’s it.”

I raise my brows out of instinct before forcing them back down. “All right.”

She gets up from her spot on the ground, dusting the gravel off her butt. She wraps her arms around my stomach, head resting on my chest, so I hug back. Words won’t come to me right now. This works just as well.

“Let’s go back in. I’m sure Jordan’s waiting for you. I’ll find a new seat.”

“You sure you don’t want to go home?”

“No, I work better out of the house. I’ll be fine. Promise.” She pulls me along with my hand, and I have no choice but to follow her back in.

Jordan and Dylan chat, leaning against the back of the bar. They both glance over at us, casually watch Abby gather her things, and move to a booth at the back. Once she’s settled, I gather whatever sanity I can and join them behind the bar.

“Look,” Jordan starts, pushing off the bar.

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