“Sebastian?” I frown. “Are you guys friends?”
“No,” he says, his hands rubbing his jeans nervously. The shirt beneath his jacket is wrinkled and stained. “I wanted Charlie’s number. I thought maybe I could get a job at the theater or something?”
The way he makes the statement into a question makes me doubt his actual intentions.
“You look like hell, Michaels,” I scold gently, walking forward to finger the soft material of his shirt. He still won’t meet my gaze. “You smell like alcohol. Are you drunk?”
He finally looks at me. “Not yet,” he says with a small smile, and for a moment I can see the old Brantley. I sigh.
“You burned bridges, babe.”
“I know.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “I just thought that maybe Lincoln would have forgiven me by now.”
I bark a laugh of disbelief. “You dumped me, Brantley. Despite everything we’d been through, you basically told me I was nothing to you but a good fuck.” He flinches. “I haven’t forgiven you, and my friends sure as hell haven’t either.” Myvoice rises in pitch. “Have you met Lincoln Evans, Brantley? The guy resented Charlie for like three years for no conceivable reason. You? He has a reason.”
Brantley drops his face to his hands, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes, and I watch quietly while he tries to compose himself. Finally, he takes a shuddering breath and looks up. “So, you’re working here, huh?”
“For now.” I grimace, not sure if I trust him. My heart aches just looking at him, but at the same time, I want to sink into his lap and touch every inch of his skin.
I thought I’d gotten over Brantley Michaels. Maybe I was wrong.
The office door swings open, and we jump. I turn my head as Sebastian enters. He’s staring down at a handful of papers with a frown tugging on his lips. His dark hair is spiked in different directions, and he’s wearing a white button-up shirt that’s open at the collar. I can see the edge of a tattoo peeking from beneath the rolled cuff of one sleeve—it looks like words, and I really want to know what it says.
“Fi, have you seen the new hire paperwork for—” He stops when he looks up and his expression darkens.
“What the hell are you doing here, Stitch?” Sebastian growls, moving forward until he’s standing over Brantley, aggression rolling off him in waves.
I step back. Since I’ve known my best friend’s brother, he's been playful, sarcastic, and sometimes moody, but I’ve never seen him outright hostile.
Brantley leans away from him. “Hey, man, I just wanted to ask?—”
“You don’t get to ask me any favors,” Sebastian snaps. “How did you get in here? Get the fuck out.”
“Whoa, Sebastian, I let him in,” I stammer. “I’m sorry, I?—”
Sebastian glances at me, his eyes still blazing with anger, but his expression softens when he meets my gaze. “It’s not yourfault, Fi. You didn’t know what a goddamn problem this asshole has been for the past six months.” Sebastian turns to look at Brantley disdainfully. “Are you drunk again?”
Brantley narrows his eyes, then stands, his chest inches from Sebastian’s as they face each other, toe to toe. “No, I’m not drunk. And I would hardly call giving your bar some business a problem.”
“Giving me business? Is that what you call all the property damage you caused? I should be suing you.”
Brantley scoffs. “You said you didn’t want my money, remember? Besides, a few broken glasses hardly counts as property damage.”
“Afew broken glasses?”
“Okay, I guess it was some glasses, some liquor, and a chair. C’mon, Bastian?—”
My mouth falls open.Hecaused the damage in the bar?
“Don’t fucking call me that,” Sebastian interrupts.
“Whatever.Seb,then.”
“I told you before, we’re not friends, Stitch. You don’t get to give me cute nicknames.” He shoves a finger into Brantley’s chest. “You think just because you’re buddy-buddy with my staff, you can just show up? I told you to get your shit together. I’m done enabling you, which I’ve been doing for the past six months, by the way.”
“What’s he talking about, Brantley?” I ask.
Brantley’s cheeks flush when his gaze darts to mine. “There may have been a few bathroom incidents…” Brantley starts. “And then, I guess I hit a guy with a pool cue. But he was asking for it, hitting on Brett like that.”
