I smile, sweeping my hair from my face. “Presley was supposed to be tending bar.” Paybacks.
Tucking her phone in her back pocket, Presley rolls her eyes. “I’m on it.”
“Need some help?” Everett steps toward me, reaching for one of the cases of beer in the back of Avie’s truck. “You shouldn’t be lifting these by yourself.”
Here’s a fun fact. I lost my virginity to Everett when I was sixteen. I thought I was going to die, and I did not want to die a virgin. If you tell my brother, I’ll deny it because Everett is his best friend and that would make me, you know, a hypocrite. So let’s just keep this treasure nugget to ourselves and move on. We’re fine. It was sex. Nothing special. And we’ve rarely mentioned it since.
I rip the box away. “I’ve got it, E.”
He holds up his hands and backs up a step. “I know you do.” Tilting his head, he watches me curiously. “I’m just offering some help so you don’t overdo it.”
It doesn’t matter how many years pass, people see the scar on my chest and they know I’ve had heart surgery. Suddenly, I’m not capable of doing anything. “It’s been six years, Everett. I can certainly handle lifting cases of beer.”
Aggravated with me, he sighs. “Whatever you say.”
His feet drag against the gravel, and then I hear the thick metal of the door screeching as it slams behind him. I glare at the building. I’m locked out. Damn it. “Everett,” I groan, regretting telling him to leave.
Hauling up the two cases of beer left in the back of the truck, I attempt to carry them around the front of the building. It’s heavy and more than I can take. I make it around the side before I drop one of the cases.
Tears surface and my anger builds inside me. I look down at the beer spilled on the sidewalk, and then familiar expensive shoes in front of me.
Fucking Devereux. I should have known he’d come looking for me today.
I slide my gaze to his. “Need some help?”
Don’t be fooled by his beautiful green eyes. They’re emerald pits of deception. I can’t believe that I even fell for him. Anger surges through me like the ocean’s tide. It ebbs and flows, and then it’s constant and persistent.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I seethe. “I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again.”
Like he’s sulking, he bends his head forward, rubs the back of his neck and nods and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I know.”
He knows? So he’s here to what… make matters worse? I’m thankful for the beer in my hand. If I have something in my hands, I won’t fidget, and I certainly won’t hit him, like I really want to. I can be argumentative and flinty with the best of them. I grew up in a bar with fishermen. I wrote the book on bitch-mode. “Then what the fuck are you doing here?”
“I uh….”
That’s what he has to say? For six months, he didn’t think to tell me he was married, and now all he has to say to me is uh? “Why did you come here?” I drop the other case. It breaks. Avie is going to kill me. “Isn’t your wife wondering where you’re at?”
He swallows, flinching at my words. “I was wondering if I could get the ring back?” he asks, his eyes on the beer spilling from the cardboard case. Of course he can’t look at me in the face when he asks for it back. Why would he? That’d be fucking noble of him, and apparently, as we just found out, noble is not his strong suit.
Did I forget to tell you he proposed the night I found out he was married? Must have slipped my mind in my fit of rage. Just so you know, I wasn’t going to say yes. I didn’t like him that much, but still, a shitty situation for me.
I take a deep breath in, trying to prepare myself for the rant I’ve been practicing.
My attention lifts from the beer to the commotion on the docks, and then I let him have it. “You know, Dev, I thought maybe I’d give you the benefit of the doubt first. What the hell were you thinking asking me to marry you when you were already married?”
He shrugs, but I can tell me shortening his name pissed him off. I’ll go ahead and mark this down as a point on my behalf.
I drive my hand into his shoulder. “I deserve a goddamn answer!”
His eyes shift to mine. Probably because I’ve said fuck and goddamn, while in the entire time we dated, I don’t think I cussed at all. Or maybe because I’m shouting and people on the streets are gawking at us. I look at a woman who’s staring and smile. “Don’t worry, he’s married. I just found out.”
By the way her face pales, maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but you know, I think everyone in this town needs to know what a lying sack of shit he is.
Just when I’m going to walk away, he reaches for my hand. “I was going to file for divorce.”
“And what, marry me next and then a year into it find a new wife? How many times have you done this to women?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve never.”
I snort, crossing my arms defiantly over my chest. “Until now.”
Shaking his head, he blows out a breath. “Until now. Listen, Journey,” his voice softens and he tries to reach for my hand, “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
Stepping back a foot, I start laughing. Full-on hysterical laughing and then that turns into more stares, people stopping in the street and just about the time I feel like I’m going to burst into tears, I get angry and yell, “Fuck. You. Devereux. Don’t ever come here again.”
In a rush, Avie comes outside, the heavy wooden door swinging open with the ding from the bell above it. “Is everything okay out here?” His eyes move from the broken beer bottles on the street to me, and then Devereux. “What the fuck are you doing here, you piece of shit?”
Yep. I told my big brother all about big douchebag.
Devereux holds his hands up and backs up a step. “I just came to say I was sorry. I don’t want no trouble.”
I might not have mentioned this, but Avie has a temper. One that’s known around this small coastal town. He once put a grabby patron in the hospital with sixteen stitches in his throat when the guy refused last call.
I grin, thinking of Avie putting him in the hospital. “Erp, wrong answer. Try again.”
Jesus. Am I as obnoxious as I think I am right now?
Devereux narrows his eyes at me, then shakes his head in annoyance. He focuses on Avie, who’s positioned himself between Devereux and me. “I came to get the ring back.”
I smile at Avie, snort, and he smiles, because he knows what I did with the ring. My back straightens, and for someone who has always thought of herself as the poor little sick girl, I have courage like I’ve never had before. It’s like the moment in Brave when Merida finally realizes the bear had been her mother all along. Okay, maybe not like that at all, but I love that movie, so I’m going to say I’m like the lead in Brave, and you’re just going to fucking agree with me. Unless you want on my bad side too.
I lean toward Nick and whisper, “If you want the ring, I hope you know how to swim because it’s in the bottom of the Pacific.” I push past Avie and into the bar.
Presley is standing near the door, her mouth hanging open. “Damn, girl. I’ve never seen that side before.”