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Isabella places a hand on my arm, but I shake her off.
“I am taking care of her,” Sam firmly states, her gaze sliding over to Isabella’s before she looks back at me. “We all are.”
A long and tense moment passes.
“I don’t care what you have going on with Tristan. If you get her into any kind of trouble, I fucking swear—”
Isabella jumps up and wedges herself between us. “Stop it, Carter. I agreed to come here, okay? I’m not a baby.”
She places a hand on my chest and tries to meet my gaze. “Can we please go somewhere we can talk? I have so much I want to say to you.”
Being in close proximity to her is hard. Harder than I ever thought possible.
Every cell in my body screams her name, and every inch of me aches with the desire to take her into my arms and carry her right out of there.
Isabella steps closer, and the smell of her perfume wafts up my nostrils, sending a jolt straight through me.
For the first time in weeks, I exhale and press two fingers to my lips. “You two need to get out of here, Sam. You’re in over your head, and you know it. Take her somewhere else.”
“But—”
“Now,” I bark through gritted teeth. I take a few more steps back, leaving as much distance between myself and Isabella as possible.
But I don’t miss the wounded look on Isabella’s face or the tears she tries to blink back.
Sam drapes an arm over Isabella’s shoulders and says something into her ear. Isabella’s eyes are still on me, and she’s muttering something unintelligible under her breath. I hold myself perfectly still as they brush past me. After a brief pause, I stride ahead of them and hold the bar door open. On her way past, Isabella tries to touch me again, but I don’t give her a chance.
Outside, Ernesto is waiting for them, his back pressed against the SUV. Wordlessly, he holds the door open, and Tristan gets into the front.
I dig my nails into my palms as they drive off, resisting every urge in my body to go after them. As I stand there underneath the flickering fluorescent lamp, Paul comes to stand next to me and doesn’t say anything. Red and orange flames light up his face as he puffs on a cigarette.
Without looking back, I hold my hand out. Paul hands me a cigarette, and the first inhale loosens the knot in my stomach.
It takes every ounce of strength and self-control I have to continue to stand there until Ernesto’s SUV turns into a speck in the distance. As soon as it’s swallowed whole by traffic, I spin around to face Paul, who has a strange expression on his face.
“What the fuck are you looking at?”
Paul shrugs and takes another long drag. “Love is a strange thing, isn’t it, boss?”
I grunt. “You and your brother need to learn to mind your own goddamn business.”
Paul nods and rolls his shoulders. “Abso-fucking-lutely. Yet here we are. I haven’t spent a lot of time with Isabella, but she’s good people, boss.”
I shoot Paul a warning look, the anger still pumping steadily through me.
If Sam hadn’t agreed to take Isabella back, I’m not sure what I would’ve done, but I’m sure the patrons of the bar, who are now singing loudly and offkey, would’ve borne the full brunt of my anger. Over the past few weeks, I’ve earned a reputation in most of the bars within a ten-block radius, but I can’t bring myself to care.
Because none of it matters.
All the bars, all the drinks, and all the fights aren’t going to change what I am. Or what I’ve done to Isabella.
And they sure as shit aren’t going to make me into the man she wants, the one she needs. Isabella deserves more than the cold shoulder and for me to ignore her, but until I’m ready to go back and until I know what I’m going to do, she’s better off without me.
Let her nurse her ego and pride.
Because I’m determined that I’m never going to hurt Isabella like that again, and if it means continuing to stay away from her for the foreseeable future, so be it.
Carter Blackthorne isn’t a quitter, and he doesn’t half-ass anything.
