Page 61 of Bad Boy Done Wrong
He lifted a pretzel and stared at it. Two interlocking loops like a heart. He snapped it in half.
“Zach!” Carrie exclaimed.
He turned, surprised at her volume. “What?”
“Look, I’m not sure what all that status stuff means to you, but to me it’s not important. I don’t think you’re a bad seed at all. You were my white knight just like you said. You kept me safe for what could have been some very risky behavior with any other random guy I picked up.”
He stared at her. She was saying all the right things, but her blue eyes were soft with sympathy, like she wanted to hug him and make him all better. She was seeing him all wrong now and he hated it. He’d worked hard to become more than his past. It always bit him in the ass.
“You can’t fix me,” he growled.
Her voice was soft and soothing. “I was lucky to find you. And I’m so sorry you were ever told you were anything but exactly what you are—a good person. The best.” She rubbed his arm.
He ignored her touch, meant in sympathy he didn’t want or need.
She kept right on talking, her voice louder, more urgent, the words bouncing around his muddled head full of pain and whiskey. “I’ve missed you terribly. I let my ex and his lies get in my head and it messed with what we had. Can we try to start again?”
So much messed up. Didn’t know how to fix it. He tossed some bills on the bar. “You know what? Neither one of us is cut out for this. You’re screwed up by that asshole; I’m just screwed up.” He stood unsteadily. “I’m going home.”
He took one step and the room tilted.
“Josh!” a woman hollered. Not Carrie. He focused with great effort. Hailey with the light red hair. Pretty.
“On it,” Josh said, coming around the bar. He put an arm around Zach. “I’m driving, big guy.” He turned and called, “Mad, take over for me.” Mad was a part-time bartender at the place. Little Mad, the only little sister Zach had ever known.
“Bye, shortstack!” he called.
“Bye, Professor!” Mad returned with real affection. See, people thought he was cool with all his studying.
“We’ll talk later, okay?” Carrie asked, appearing at his side. “Tomorrow.”
He’d talk right now. “I was bad inexactlythe way you wanted me to be. You couldn’t get enough. All night, every night, every fuck—” He was cut off when Josh jerked him away. He stumbled and then looked over his shoulder at Carrie, her eyes still filled with sympathy. “Take your sympathy home with you and leave it there!”
“Enough,” Josh snapped, dragging him toward the back door that led to the parking lot.
Good old Josh. He had an identical twin, Jake, and Zach still hadn’t seen his old friend. “I’m fine, Josh, dude, bro. When’s Jake coming back?”
“Zach, dude, bro, you’re not safe behind the wheel. Only reason I’ve been serving you is to keep an eye on you. Now you’re cut off. And Jake’ll be back next weekend.”
“I miss Jake. He’s neater than you.”
“You’re the best kind of drunk. Goofy.”
They stepped outside. Zach was not feeling goofy, he was feeling wounded, fucking heartbroken. Doomed to be a lone wolf forever, whether he chose that path or not. He threw his head back and howled at the moon.
Surprisingly, Josh joined in.
He stopped to stare at him. “Are you a lone wolf too?”
Josh grinned. “Yeah, bro, I’m a lone wolf too.” He snagged Zach, one hand on the back of his neck, and walked him to his car, a black Miata convertible.
“Your car’s too small for my legs.”
“You’re an inch taller than me. I think you’ll fit.”
Carrie always thought he was so-o-o tall, but obviously he was only an inch taller than Josh’s six feet. She was just short. Petite.
Josh opened the passenger-side door and gave him a shove to get in. He did, pulling the seat back as far as it would go. Stupid convertible. Josh should get a real man’s car. Like a truck.
