Page 6 of Flag On The Play
Candy’s eyes go wide, but she’s trying not to laugh.
I’m yelling now. I don’t even care. Because that’s what Finlay does to me. He gets under my skin and lights a match. He’s been doing it since I was seventeen. And even after all these years, he still knows how to piss me off like no one else on the planet.
“Okay, so what’s the story with him?” Candy asks, twisting the cap back on her mascara. “There’s obviously some unresolved sexual tension or a torrid love affair.”
A dry, humorless laugh escapes me as I yank my sweatshirt over my head.
“No torrid love affair. We went to high school together. He asked me out once, and I turned him down. You would’ve thought I punched his grandma. The guy acted like I committed a crime against humanity. Couldn’t handle the fact that someone said no to him. I wasn’t interested then, and I’m sure as hell not interested now.”
I grab the envelope, shove it into my purse, and sling it over my shoulder.
“Thanks for giving it to me, and good luck tonight.”
Candy grins. “You’re lucky to have the night off.”
She gives me that mischievous glint in her eye. “So, are you going to keep the money?”
I smirk and pull her into a quick hug. “Hell no. I’ll be returning to sender.”
I storm out of Heaven’s Edge, the cold air smacking me in the face like a slap from reality. My blood is still boiling as I head toward my car. Before I even slide behind the wheel, I pull out my phone and call the only person who can help me properly channel this rage.
Roxy.
She’s a bartender at Heaven’s Edge, a tattoo artist-in-training, and the best bad decision I’ve ever made in the form of a best friend.
The line clicks, and her groggy voice answers, “This better be good so early.”
“It’s good,” I bite out. “I’m on my way over. You’re not going to believe what happened.”
“It’s only noon, Nova. What could you have possibly done before coffee?”
“Be there in five.”
When I pull up, I don’t bother knocking. Roxy and I stopped that whole polite friend routine months ago. We’re walk-right-in close. Bleed-on-my-floor close.
“Roxy?”
She steps out of her bedroom, all wild hair and flawless eyeliner. Always looks like she’s either going to seduce someone or destroy their life, probably both.
“What the hell is going on?” she asks, noticing the fire in my eyes.
I toss the envelope on the coffee table and cross my arms.
“Remember that guy from high school? The one I told you about when we were trashed last month?”
She narrows her eyes, piecing it together. “Quarterback. Nighthawks. Finlay Reed?”
“Bingo.”
I pace the living room, full of restless energy. “He came into Heaven’s Edge last night. Sat in the crowd. Watched me dance. Then gave Candy an envelope full of cash to pass along to me.”
Roxy snatches it off the table and peeks inside. Her brows shoot up. “There’s at least two grand in here. Why?”
“Because he’s a self-righteous dickbag,” I snap. “This is his version of closure or redemption or some twisted power move. ‘Here, poor Nova, take my guilt money and go buy yourself some respectability.’ Like fuck off, Finlay.”
Roxy smirks, tossing the envelope down again. “What a cocky prick. You should light it on fire and throw it at him. See how good the golden boy can really catch.”
I bark out a laugh, for the first time feeling like I’m not spiraling.
