Page 73 of Dirty Pool

She still felt like it sometimes.

Charles gestured at the group of lads that had attended the meeting, too, and were now waiting in the hallway just beyond Gabbie. Without waiting for her to really move out of their way, they pressed past her in the tight quarters, not even bothering to excuse themselves or pass her a second glance.

She wasn’t important.

Dismissed.

“Da—”

“Go, but not too far because I expect to speak with you again later,” her father ordered one last time. Then, to the men in the office, he added, “They never intended to settle, lads. That much is clear. We won’t act … yet. We’ll wait and see what they do first, aye, and then we’ll make the hard choices.”

Charles shut the door in Gabbie’s face, essentially leaving her alone in the hallway. It was amazing to her how she could feel so many things all at once. Anger warred with her disbelief and astonishment. Panic swelled in her heart, swirling with anxiety and sadness.

Did it really have to be like this?

What did that mean for her?

For Michel?

For them?

She didn’t know, and she didn’t like it.

The muffled voices continued on behind the office door, and she glared at it for a full minute before finally deciding to head out. A few things weren’t lost on her, though. Like the way her father said they wouldn’t act yet. She took that to mean good things. There was still a slight chance this newest problem could be settled … somehow.

Her faith was low.

Hope was still there, though.

Secondly … she heard her father loud and clear on Michel. He wasn’t impressed, and he didn’t approve, but he knew better than to tell her to stop. He was never going to lock her down, and force her hand where Michel was concerned. Perhaps Charles loved her too much to do that, or he simply knew it would be pointless.

Either way, Gabbie had options, too.

But what exactly were they?

The phone in Gabbie’s pocket buzzed, and she knew before even pulling it out who it would be texting her.

Michel.

She wasn’t wrong.

His text was simple.

Meet me at the pool tables tonight.

Was it safe?

Did it even matter?

Gabbie looked over her shoulder at her father’s office well aware that he had told her to stick around. She wasn’t supposed to leave, and he wouldn’t be pleased to find out she did, not to mention, that she had gone for Michel.

Those were her options, though.

Him, or them.

Her father would always want her to pick the family.

She was always going to pick Michel.