Page 72 of Don't Take the Girl
"I don't have one," she answers, her tone losing the brass it had inside.
"Okay, who drove?"
"Hale," I hear Noah's voice boom from behind us, the noise from inside filtering through the door as he makes his exit.
"I don't want him to take me home," Laney says so only I can hear.
Fuck. Why couldn't he have stayed in the shadows a little longer? Part of me wonders if he wasn't waiting for this moment, one where he could say I finally caught you.
I turn around with Laney in my arms just as the rest of the crew makes their way out. "Put her down, London," Noah demands, as if he has any authority to.
"Sure," I grind out. "Just as soon as you tell me what car. Her ankle is giving her trouble."
I can tell it's on the tip of his tongue to offer to carry her, but shockingly, he keeps his mouth shut. There's no way in hell I put her in his arms, and I think he's too proud to be on the losing end of that war. Her eyes flash up to mine, disappointment flooding her face with yet another rejection from me, but it's not for the reasons she thinks.
"Laney can ride with us," Asha says, catching up to us. "She's staying with me anyway."
"None of you should be driving. I haven't served Noah since he arrived hours ago," I point out.
"Oh, we're not driving," Asha points to the Suburban parked at the back of the lot. "That's my driver, and that's our ride."
"I'll go with Asha and Sydney," Laney cedes.
I call out to Noah, who is standing beside his car a few yards away with the passenger-side door open. "She doesn't want you, Donovan." Sydney reaches the Suburban first, opening the back door for me to put her down. Setting her down, her warmth leaves my body before I'm ready to let it go. "Do you have your phone?" Her hands fall to her sides, plunging into the pockets hidden in her boho dress before nodding yes. "Prove it," I challenge with a plan.
The second her phone is out of her pocket, I send her my number via AirDrop. "Why are you giving me your number?"
"Because we're friends. If you need me"—I pull the seatbelt across her lap and click it into place before finding her face—"call me, and I'll be there, but I can't take you home ton?—"
"I don't want to be your friend," she cuts me off before I can explain.
Her face searches mine with a mix of new emotions I can't place. I'm unsure of how to interpret their meaning. Are her words rooted in the same sentiments as mine? The other day, when she suggested we be friends, I couldn't bring myself to agree to the title because I want so much more. Is she saying she wants more, or does she want me gone?
"You heard her," Noah says suddenly, pulling the door wider and invading our moment. "She doesn't want to be your friend, Hale. You've done enough."
Her words and his tone set me off, and all the fucks I had to give disappear as I step into him and push him back hard enough that he loses his footing and falls to the ground. The sound of his body hitting the gravel sends a dark satisfaction through me.
Asha and Sydney shriek, my move catching them completely off guard as the night air now crackles with tension.
"You don't get to speak for her!" I roar as Fisher rushes to my front, pulling me back as Noah gets to his feet. Noah's eyes darken with a hatred I recognize all too well.
This is what he wants. He wants me to lose control, to become the monster everyone already thinks I am.
"You really want to go there," he challenges, the fury in his tone matching my own as his face flushes with anger and something that looks a lot like anticipation. "I don't mind an audience, Hale, but I think we both know the same can't be said for you."
The implication hangs between us like a blade. He's threatening to expose everything. Right here. Right now. The commotion has drawn the attention of a few patrons as they exit. I'm already going to hear about how I handled things inside from Baylor later. I don't need any more problems. And while I'm resigned to giving Laney every truth she deserves, it won't bewhile she's drunk in a parking lot under the watchful gaze of small-town folk eager to turn our misfortune into tomorrow's gossip.
"It's not worth it," Fisher says, keeping his arm extended across my chest, his fingers digging into my shoulder.
"You should listen to your friend, Hale. You wouldn't want to start something you can't finish." Noah's voice drops an octave, laced with venom, as he glances over his shoulder to Trigg, who's standing a few feet behind him, watching everything unfold beside Asha and Sydney.
I roll my neck from side to side, the vertebrae cracking like gunshots in the tense silence. Fisher's hand twists in my shirt, a silent warning. He knows I'm seconds away from losing my fucking shit, from crossing a line I can't uncross.
"She may not want to be my friend, Donovan," I say, voice dangerously low, "but I'm not the one she told to go home."
Something flickers across Noah's face. I pushed a button. Good.
"She's had years to tell me that." His head tilts to one side, a calculated gesture. "You don't find it peculiar she waited until now to do so?"
