Page 113 of The Matchmaker
“Okay,” Adam says, still looking a little shell-shocked.
“Katie?” My name is a singsong as Nush hurries over with an unusually pleasant smile that immediately puts me on edge. “You’re needed outside. Your boyfriend’s about to throw down.”
My eyes go wide as she turns her attention to Gemma.
“What happened to your lipstick?”
I hurry outside before anyone can answer her. The parking lot is empty of people and dark except for the lights streaming out from the pub, and for a moment I’m confused before I see the two men standing over by Jack’s Jeep.
“Go back inside, Katie,” Callum says, when he spots me. “I’ve got this.”
“You come too,” I say, eyeing Jack warily. He looks frazzled, pulling at his hair, and while I don’t think he’s been drinking, I’ve been around enough drunk people in my life to know what it looks like when someone wants to throw up. “Do you want to sit down?” I ask him.
“No,” he snaps, and Callum’s gaze narrows.
“Don’t speak to her like that,” he warns, but Jack only scoffs.
“Do you know how much of an idiot I look right now? For weeks I’ve been doing his bidding on this. For months. And the whole time he’s telling me to push and to push and that this is his decision and that this is what he wants and then he does this!” He lets out a little laugh, like he’s telling himself a joke. “I’m the one who’s been doing all the interviews. I’m the one who’s been pushing back. He’s made me look ridiculous.”
“Think you managed that all by yourself,” Callum says, but Jack’s not paying attention to him. His gaze is on the pub, and I know he’s thinking of Gerald inside schmoozing and basking and doing all the things he threw Jack under the bus to do. And while we might have saved the pub, I still have a festival to pull off.
“No,” I say quickly, stepping in front of Jack. He looks down at me like he’d forgotten I was even here. “You’re not welcome here right now. Cool off and if you want to kill the man, do it at your own place of business.”
He just scoffs at me and steps forward again.
“Hey,” Callum says sharply, and even I freeze at the tone of his voice. It’s not one I’ve ever heard from him before. “She said back up.”
He doesn’t, he keeps coming. Stubbornly I stand my ground and Jack crowds me for one second as he attempts to move past and then suddenly Callum is there, slipping into the small space between us, and pushing me behind him as he rears a hand back and hits his brother square in the jaw.
I always thought I knew what hitting someone looks like. I’ve seen movies. I’ve watched clips online. But in real life it’s very different. Surprising for one thing. I’m not expecting either the action or the sound it makes. Not abam!like how it’s described in comic books, but a dull thump, kind of underwhelming, especially when Jack doesn’t stagger back or go sprawling to the ground. He just kind of jerks back, putting a hand to his cheek and staring at his brother like he doesn’t know who he is.
The two men stare at each other and, though I’m nervous one of them is going to try something again, I don’t intervene. This isn’t about me.
Jack’s mouth opens and closes wordlessly, but I can’t tell whether he’s just testing nothing’s broken or is trying to say something. Nothing happens in the end; he just gives his brother a steely look and turns back to his car. A few seconds later, he’s gone.
The excited chatter of the party continues behind us, but neither of us move. Callum flexes his fingers almost absently, his thoughtful expression morphing into one of confusion when he sees me staring at him.
“What?”
“What do you mean,what?” I snap. “You just punched him in the face!”
“Barely.”
“No, not barely. That was a punch. In the face. How’s your hand? Did you break it?”
“Did I…no.” He sounds amused now, like I’m the ridiculous person here, when he’s the one fighting like he’s in an action movie. I take his wrist as gently as I can, making sure no fingers are sticking out at weird angles.
“I can’t believe you hit him,” I say, as the rest of our merry group hurry over following the commotion.
“He’ll get over it.”
“What happened?” Gemma asks. “We heard yelling.”
“Callum punched Jack.”
“Nice,” Nush says, and I glare at her.
“Not nice. No to violence, Nush.”
