Page 92 of Rival
“I know who all of you are, so this is your final warning. Get the fuck off my floor and either plant your asses in a chair and have a civilized conversation, or get the hell outta here.”
I don’t know about those two, but I’m thankful for the distraction with the way my head was diving deep into a really fucked up place. I can’t go there tonight, not all of it at once.It’s too much!
Griffin and Mason are grumbling as we stand and brush ourselves off, then find a table in the corner away from everyone else as they’re cleared from the space. Shortly after closing early, the bartender comes over with three fresh glasses and a full bottle of liquor. Setting it in the middle, he lowers his voice.
“Now,clearlyya’ll have some shit to work out, so I’m goin’ against my better judgement here, but I’ll give ya the time to work it out. I want the rest of your keys and you can sleep off the hangovers you’ll surely have out in the lot when you’re finished fuckin’ each other up.”
As if he knows they’ll comply, he shoves his hand out as Mason and Griffin, albeit a bit testily, drop their keys in his palm. Before he walks away, Griffin stops him.
“Paul, you seen Edith around town before you opened up today? We got people out lookin’ for her, but I’ve been tryin’ to ask everyone I run into.”
The bartender, apparently named Paul, shakes his head slowly. “No man, sorry. I’ll call the wife and ask, though.” Pointing at me, then Mason, he adds, “Your asses don’t leave those chairs.”
Leaving us alone, I’m staring hard at Griffin. “Why the hell are you looking for her?” My pulse pounds as soon as I ask, and I’m actually afraid to hear the answer.
“Because she’s fuckin’ missing. One would think you’d know that if you’re under the impression she’s team Jaxon right now,” Mason hisses. Griffin stays silent as he fills our glasses, then pushes one toward me.
Nausea has me swallowing hard as I watch the liquid swirl, but that’s a problem for tomorrow. Ireallyneed to stop pushing shit off until tomorrow. “Explain,” I bite out. Forcing my hand out, I pick up my drink and bring it to my lips.
“Say please,” Griffin sing songs, loving every second he’s getting under my skin. He waits with a shit-eating grin I want nothing more than to slap away. Mason is glaring hard enough that I know he clearly would love to do the same.
Backed in a corner, I feel an ache in my jaw with how hard I’m grinding it, plus from the bruises I’m sure I’ll be sporting tomorrow. “Please,” I bite out.
Satisfied, he fills in both Mason and me with the events that transpired at the Hughes home. Mason seems to know some of it, but when Griffin gets to the details, his face grows tumultuous and I can read Clayborn’s death written within the depths of his stony demeanor.
The longer Griffin speaks, the sicker I feel, realizing she had tried to tell me what she was facing with her father. She fuckingtoldme before she was in a shit situation. I knew this, but my own past trauma and history swallowed all of it up and spit it out at her feet.
I’m no better than her sperm donor…
“When you manage to push it out, I’ll submit to a test and if it turns out to be mine, all you’ll get is money. Nothing more.”
Swaying in my chair, regret and shame drown me. I sent her away. “Get the fuck out!” That’s what I said to her.
Jesus, she fucking ran from me like I was going to beat the shit out of her, too.What have I done?
“Here.” Paul’s voice sounds like it’s coming from within a tunnel, but the trash can he shoves in my hand is perfectly timed as I lean over and hurl up every drop of whiskey I’ve ingested tonight. Once I’m finished, a cool glass of water is placed in front of me and I down it.
“Thanks,” I murmur, leaning back.
I hear a huff, then a scathing, “Pussy.”
Probably Griffin, but I ignore him as well as Mason’s snort in agreement.
With my eyes closed, I make sure I’m following everything. “So, you’re telling me that earlier today, the guy who killed my sister almost killed his daughter? Right? That’s what you’re saying?”
Mason cuts in. “Hughes killed your sister?” There’s no empathy, but he does manage to keep the question somewhat civil.
“Yes.” My answer is sharp and I crack an eye open to peer at Griffin.
Hiccupping, he slumps to the side, supporting his head up with a fist on the table before he falls over. Apparently, he’s more drunk than I realized. With a slurred voice, he finally answers. “He didn’talmostkill her ‘cuz I got in there fast enough, but she was all sorts of banged up. I’ve been lookin’ like crazy and can’t find her anywhere.”
Mason seems to be the most sober of us all, but his eyes are definitely glassy, so maybe he’s just holding it well. Without blinking, they narrow into slits, focused on me. “Why do you think you’re the guy she was tossin’ me to the side for?”
“I was gonna actually date her.” Pissed that he’s acting like he’s done nothing wrong and Griffin seemingly fine with walking away from after one night, I throw in an extra jab to hit them both hard. “Instead ofjust fucking her and saying thanks for agood time. Although, I’m sure my dick would’ve been enough of a reason for her to walk away from both your asses.”
Fuck, I forgot that fucking lesson again.
Griffin
