Page 51 of Entwined Hearts
We stumbled on the first few steps, laughing together when we ran into one another. But then, something inside me clicked,something buried under corporate pantsuits, law textbooks, and fake smiles. And before I knew it, I was dancing. Even hitting every step perfectly. My heart pounded with the beat, my face hurting from my smile.
I felt genuinely happy since…since I was a teenager.
I wanted Weston here, wanted to tell him to come dance with me. But when I looked up, my feet glued themselves to the ground, and Emmett’s big body collided with mine harshly.
He grabbed me before I toppled over. “Shit, Savvy, you okay?”
“Oh God,” I breathed, as I made eye contact with Stewart. He cut his way through the crowd like he owned the whole damn building, the arrogance pouring off him like steam.
I didn’t understand why he was here, or how he even found me. I never told him where I was going. Not that he ever cared to ask.
“Who is that?” Emmett asked, his voice carrying a protective edge.
“Stewart,” I whispered.
“TheStewart?” He stood in front of me, eyes wide. “The one you were engaged to?”
I didn’t have time to answer before he was in front of me, glaring down at me with that same vaguely disappointed look I realized he’d always looked at me with. “Savannah.”
I flinched at the sound of my name. “What are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you that.” He looked around the bar, his upper lip curled with disgust. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to track you down? And I find you here in this place with these…people.”
My stomach turned. Not because of him, but myself. What had I ever seen in him? He was pretentious, judgmental, andegotistical. And his rotten insides ruined anything worth looking at on the outside.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, you found me. So what do you want?”
He scoffed, narrowing his eyes at me. “What do I want? I want an explanation, Savannah.” He took a step towards me. “You blow me off for two months, and then you try to break up with me through a fucking text last week? What kind of kindergarten shit is that?” His voice was sharp, accusing, and loud enough for people to notice something was happening.
“You need to back up, buddy,” Emmett warned, reaching over my shoulder to keep Stewart out of my face.
He smacked Emmett’s hand off his chest. “And who the hell are you? Her boyfriend?” He let out a sound of disgust, shaking his head at me. “Didn’t know you were such a whore, Savannah.”
The words landed like a slap, the sting reverberating through every inch of my body. “The fuck did you just say?” Emmett snapped, wedging himself between Stewart and me. My heart flew to my throat, and I tried to pull Emmett away, but he was like a brick wall.
Stewart puffed up and doubled down. “I said she’s a whore.”
“You need to leave before things get ugly,” Emmett said, his voice lethally quiet. A last warning. That’s when I realized just how intimidating my brother was: all dark tattoos, solid muscle, and vicious glares. Like a guard dog waiting for the order to strike.
At this point, we’d drawn a crowd, and I couldn’t stand all the eyes on us. Shame crawled up my spine, my chest tightening. I wanted to scream, cry, disappear. But I didn’t have time for any of that because Weston was already storming over with Beau and Colt.
Stewart tried to come at him, but Emmett had him pinned to the wall in under a second. My hands flew to my mouth with agasp. I’d never seen Emmett do anything like that, or look like that, before. He wasn’t my brother then, but a soldier going after the enemy.
Stewart shoved Emmett off at the same time Weston wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me back. My hands curled into his shirt, my heart racing so fast I thought it was going to burst through my chest. The weight of every stare on us pressed in, making it harder to breathe. “I got you, angel,” he said softly, and I clung to him harder.
“What the hell is going on over here?” Colt demanded.
Stewart straightened his clothes, breathing hard and glaring at me. “That’s between my fiancée and me.” I winced.
“Doesn’t look like she wants to talk,” Beau said, his voice low, as he crossed his arms over his chest.
My voice shook as I said, “I’m not your fiancée, Stewart. I never was. I’m sorry I dragged things out, but I told you last week I didn’t want to marry you.”
His eyes narrowed at Weston and me, jaw clenched tight. “Because of him?” he asked, gesturing to Weston. “And how long did it take before you spread your legs for him? Huh?” I flinched. “A day? An hour? Or are you fucking all four of them?”
Weston was on him in a split second, his fist meeting Stewart’s jaw with a sickening smack. “Weston, stop!” I screamed.
“I should fucking kill you!” he roared, getting another punch in before the guys pulled him off. He fought against them the whole way out of the bar, people gasping and staring at the whole scene. My eyes burned with humiliation. Whoever wrote theWhisperswas going to have a field day with this.
