Where the fuck is she?
“Did you try texting her?”
I look at him, deadpan. “Of course I did. I’m not stupid. She left me on read.”
He pulls his lip between his teeth. “You don’t think she’s in trouble, do you?”
I shake my head, hoping that I exude the confidence I don’t feel. “I’m sure she just forgot.”
Michaels nods absently and wanders into his kitchen, opens the fridge, and pulls out a beer.
I raise an eyebrow.
“What? I’m not allowed to drink now?” He throws his hands wide, sloshing liquid onto his sweats. “Jeez, a guy makesonemistake.”
I feel my rage building as I stare at his stupid face, dark circles, the week’s worth of stubble, his greasy hair.
How is this shitshow the same guy I used to watch on TV?
“Try three thousand dollars in property damage.” I advance on him as I bite out the words, and he steps back, his eyes going wide. “You know what? I don’t have time for this.”
This isn’t why I came here, and I can’t look at him anymore.
I turn abruptly and leave, slamming the door behind me.
I’m seething as I walk up the street. I’m so angry. Angry at Fi for leaving and at Michaels for being a colossal disappointment. I don’t even understandwhyI let Michaels get under my skin. Yes, he cost us a lot of money and the pub’s reputation took a hit, which is what Marcus is upset about—but what really gets to me is that I used to practically worship Brantley Michaels. He wasn’tjusta hockey player to me. He was this graceful package of talent, charisma, and perseverance. I admired him. And now? It’s like finding out that your favorite author is a piece of shit. How can you still enjoy their books? Once Michaels started showing up in my bar as the regular drunk, I couldn’t stomach watching hockey anymore.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, seeing a text on the lock screen.
Unknown
Sorry, I just got back to the condo. Where are you?
That has to be Fi, but why is her number different?
I type out a quick reply and pick up my pace, relief calming my nerves now that I know she’s safe and didn’t leave without me. It’s getting dark, but Vancouver is full of life, the streets and buildings lighting up as commuters start the trek home and city dwellers venture out to bars and restaurants. Something floats into my eye, and I blink in surprise when I realize it’s snowing.
I reach the condo, ride the elevator up, and open the door to find Fiona sitting on the floor lacing up her boots. She looks up at me, her pink lips curving into an apologetic smile.
Instantly forgiven, dammit.
“I would ask you where you’ve been, but I don’t want to sound like an overbearing prick.” I don’t bother to remove my coat since she’s obviously getting ready to leave.
She pulls the laces taut and ties them before standing up. “Dennis was sending me texts before he attacked me. I wanted to get a new phone with a new number, just to be safe. It took longer to do than I thought.” She pushes a long strand of hair behind her ear, and I frown, realization dawning on me.
“Yesterday when Michaels was here. That’s when he texted you.” She nods, and I sigh. “Fiona, you have got to stop pretending that everything is peachy all the time. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to ask for help. Maybe we could have stopped him before it happened.”
Fi’s eyes soften. “While I appreciate the thought, Seb, Dennis is a slimy asshole, and I think he would have found me regardless. I just wish it hadn’t happened so soon.” She puts on her coat and reaches around me to grab her purse from the island. Ishiver when her arm brushes my waist. “Now, can you go grab your stuff so we can hit the road?”
As I walk to my room to get the bag I packed earlier, I can’t help wondering if going with Fi is a mistake.
I want to protect her. I do.
She’s Charlie’s friend.
But deep down, I know two things for sure. My body’s reaction to her is more than physical because attraction isn’t a straight line with me. And being in close proximity to my little sister’s best friend is going to test the moral code I’m already barely clinging to.
CHAPTER NINE
