Page 68 of The Bad Brother

Leave.

You don’t belong here.

Even Jensen’s thinking it. I can feel it in the way he’s looking at me. He wants nothing more than for me to walk out the door and disappear forever.

You belong here.

You belong to me.

He’s a liar.

A fucking liar who lies to get what he wants.

Just like Ethan.

Picking the shot glass up, I swipe my tongue across the rim, gathering salt before downing the tequila in a single gulp. Slamming the empty glass on the bar, I open my clutch and pull out a fifty-dollar bill. Even though I’ve been paid twice now and the bulk of my paychecks are safely tucked away in a savings account Ethan doesn’t have access to, I don’t want to part with it. Fifty dollars is a lot of money but I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand here and ask for change.

Laying the single bill on the bar, I push it toward Sera with a too bright smile. “Thanks.”

Lifting my hand, I shoot another, withering look at Jensen before I turn on my ridiculously expensive heels and strut out the door.

IKNEW THE SECOND SHE PULLED THATdress out of the closet where she was going. That she wasn’t going to her shift at the hospital because not even a spoiled, rich creeker like her would wear a designer dress to operate in.

You’re being a little unfair, aren’t you? Nothing about Sloane has ever presented as spoiled. She can’t help who her parents are, any more than you can. Just admit that you’re not mad at her. You’re mad at yourself for not telling her the truth about who you really are to each other, as soon as you figured it out.

Maybe.

Probably.

But that doesn’t make watching her get dressed up to go lunch at the club I’ve been black-balled from with a bunch of people who think I’m a scumbag, any easier.

So, are you mad because Sloane belongs there or are you madbecause you don’t?

Yes.

The answer isyes—to both.

And again, not her fault. Sloane’s been honest about who she is from day one. Can you say the same?

Fuck.

“Hey.”

Angling my phone screen away from prying eyes like I’m watching porn and not Sloane, putting on lipstick, I look up to find Sera standing in front of me, a serving tray tucked into her hip and a slightly harried expression on her face. I can’t blame her. This is the busiest Saturday we’ve had in a while. Seems like Cade’s theory about people wanting a front row seat to the next round between me and my asshole brother is true. Closing the camera app on my phone, I shove it into my back pocket. “What’s up?”

“Gemma Pierce is here to see you,” Sera says like Gemma told her she’s here to burn the place to the ground. “Says she’s here for an interview?”

Swinging my gaze away from her, I look toward the door to find the woman Cade mentioned, seemingly in passing, last night when I mentioned we need to hire more waitresses if we have any hope of keeping our heads above water. Gemma Pierce is indeed, grown up, and watching me from her place by the front door with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

Fucking Cade.

Looking away from her, I find him standing on the other side of the bar. Working the taps, he’s filling a pitcher full of beer while doing an excellent job of pretending he can’t feel me staring a hole into the side of his face. Before I can tellSera I’m not the one who called Gemma, she pulls my attention away from her brother with an exaggerated sigh.

“Look—I don’t really give a shit who you hire, Jen,” she tells me on a shrug. “As long as you hiresomeone. Riv and I are drowning down here so, unless you’re able to talk the doc into quitting her fancy hospital job and come slum it with the rest of us, I say give Gemma a shot.” Backing away from me on a laugh, Sera shakes her head. “I mean… what’s the worst that could happen?”

Well, Gemma Pierce is a creeker, so historically speaking, the worst that can happen is pretty fucking bad.

Shooting Cade another dirty look, that he deftly ignores, I give in to watch Sera saunter her way over to where Gemma is standing by the front door. After a brief conversation, Sera shoos her toward me with a flatgood lucksmile.

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