Page 39 of Never Your Valentine

I turn and march back to Luther, shoulders forward, hands already in fists. “Date’s off,” I tell him. “You’re leaving. Now.”

Luther pushes off the wall he was leaning on. “Who’s gonna make me? You?”

“If it comes to that.” I take a step closer and plant my feet, eyes locked on Luther. He’s a big guy, broad-shouldered and muscled, but so am I. “I know who you are,” I say. “And I know what you bring to the table. Anger. Booze. Chaos. Annabelle deserves better.”

“I’m standing right here,” she says.

Luther ignores her, seeing me as the problem to solve. He’s right about that. “This isn’t your concern,” he says.

“Maybe not.” My voice is low and steady. “But I’m not going to stand here and watch you⁠—”

“I can handle this myself,” Annabelle says. She’s clutching the back of my jacket now. I don’t turn.

Luther’s confidence wavers. “Did I get between something? You two lovers going through a rough patch?”

“No!” Annabelle says from behind me.

I glare at Luther without blinking until he cracks.

It takes a remarkably short amount of time. Luther’s shoulders drop and he loses his fighting stance. He crumbles into himself and steps away. “I’ll be back,” he says. “When she changes her mind.”

“I’ll be here,” I promise.

Luther lopes to his car and gets in. He drives through a murky puddle on his way out of the lot, spewing up brown slush.

“You’re welcome,” I say.

Annabelle holds up a hand. “I need a second to comprehend the audacity.”

“I know. That guy is⁠—”

“Not his audacity. Yours.” She stomps her foot. “You’re not a hero. That was wrong.”

It was not. There isn’t a single universe where I would take back anything I did in the last five minutes. I’m just glad I was out here in time to stop her from making a mistake.

Annabelle thrusts out her chin. “How would you like it if I did that to you? Stopped you from going on a date?”

“I don’t date.”

“You should try it sometime.” Annabelle paces a small circle in front of me. “Let me explain the concept. Two people have a conversation and they get to know one another and then they decide if they want to keep seeing each other. Sometimes, if they’re super lucky, they even fall in love.”

My scoff is so loud it’s more like a thunderclap.

She continues to pace, winding herself up. “That is, if they ever get the chance to actually, I don’t know, get coffee together or some reckless thing like that.”

“Listen to me.” I put my hands on her shoulders to stop her pacing. She throws them off. “You see the best in everyone and it’s going to hurt you.”

“But I⁠—”

“You think he’s ‘rough around the edges’ or he’s ‘got potential.’ He’s not and he doesn’t. I’ve known Luther Detro since kindergarten. He can’t keep an apartment, he can’t keep a job, and he can’t keep control of himself when he drinks. You don’t want to be mixed up with that disaster.”

Annabelle gazes down the street where Luther’s car disappeared when he turned coward and ran. She pivots back to me. “Ah ha. I get it now.”

Warmth rises in me, equal parts relief and tenderness. I’m glad she sees reason. “I’m trying to help you.”

“You mean, you’re helping yourself.”

“This has nothing to do with me.”