Page 147 of A Ballad of Betrayal and Beauty

Both Key and I turn to find the judge, still in his black robe, smoking a cigarette and eating a hotdog from a street cart. My jaw hits the floor. Has he been there the whole time?

“Sir,” Key says, panicked. “I didn’t mean—he pushed her and?—”

The judge takes another bite of his hot dog and looks down at Logan. “Oh, don’t worry. You were clearly defending the young lady here from this riff raff. Purely defensive. I’ll make sure the police know what really happened when they arrive.”

“I . . . really?” I ask. “But I slapped?—”

He holds up his hand. “Afraid I didn’t catch anything before the push. I would suggest that both of you leave now before anything else happens.”

The judge bites into his hotdog and we, dazed, head toward the parked car. Once out of earshot, Key begins to laugh. He laughs so hard he falls against the brick of a nearby building.

“Key, what are you?—”

He wipes the mirth from his eyes. “I thought the first one was a fluke. But nope.” He pops the P. “He’s still One-Punch Logan.”

He laughs again and this time I can’t help but join. “You okay?” I ask Key as his chuckles fizzle out.

“Better than okay,” he says with a grin. “I’ve wanted to do that for years.”

CHAPTER42

Under Pressure

DUSTY

As we pull up to the bar there’s a different kind of nervousness that jumbles my belly. The outside is nondescript. Brick with dark wood trim. The windows don’t give much away and the inside is dimly lit by the occasional neon sign. I slow down when we near the door, pulling Key to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“What if theyreallydon’t like me?” I ask. “Or worse, what if . . . what if they don’t approve of, well, our situation?”

He kisses my knuckles again. “They’re a lot more open-minded than you would think. I know they’re going to love you. Come on.”

He pulls me gently and after a moment’s hesitation I relent, taking deep breaths as we pass over the threshold. It’s not overly busy inside. There are a few people sitting at the bar and several around a pool table in the corner, but then I see . . .

“Joel?” I whisper.

From the far side of the room, he smiles at me, flanked on either side by the two other couples. His hair is starting to grow back in and his face is still bruised, but he’s up and he’s out. He’s out of the hospital a day early.

Every worry I have flies out of my head as I run across the bar. That gorgeous grin spreads across his face as he stands and opens his arms so I can throw myself into him. He lets out a littleoomfas we collide, and I realize maybe I shouldn’t have been so forceful, but when I try to loosen my grip on his shoulders he buries his face in my neck. Maybe he needed this as much as I did.

“Hey gorgeous,” he whispers in my ear.

I nearly sob on the spot but all I can do is hold fast to him. To take him in. His smell, his energy, his touch, it’s like the other half of me. Finally, I pull back to face him and he pushes the curls away from my face.

I lean forward to kiss him and feel him tighten his grip on my hips. An intoxicating rush of adrenaline rushes up through my toes all the way to the top of my hair. Key is all calm familiarity—Joel is electric spontaneity.

When our lips part I murmur against his cheek. “I love you so much.”

His nose nuzzles with mine. “I love you too.”

“Ahem.”

A throat clears and I’m startled to remember that we’re not alone. In fact, there’s a whole crowd of people I need to like me watching on. I jump away from Joel but he grasps my hand to keep me close by as he chuckles.

“Dusty Connors,” he says happily. “Officially, I’d like you to meet James, Becks, Dave, and Izzy.”

My cheeks burn as I wave and smile at the two couples in front of me. “Hi,” I say, my voice cracking. “It’s so nice to meet you all . . . officially and under happier circumstances.”

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