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“I’m driving.”

“Uh, no, you’re not. Not after four.”

He downed the drink in two swallows and set the glass on the counter with a clink. “I’m not paying for a damn rideshare after everything.”

“I’ll drive you,” I said.

“I need my truck in the morning.”

“Then take a car back to it.”

“I’m not paying for a damn ride,” he said again.

He got up and pulled his keys from his pocket.

“Nope.” I reached for them and he held them out of the way and started for the door.

“Mike!”

I looked back at the bar and then to my best friend stalking toward the exit. The bartender still had my card.

“Goddamn it,” I muttered.

I followed him.

“Hey! You’re not fucking driving like this!” I said after him.

He kept walking.

“MIKE!” I came up behind him and snatched the keys. Then he spun and shoved me.

I staggered back a few inches and stood there, stunned.

It wasn’t hard, he didn’t hurt me, but Mike had never laid a hand on me. Ever. He was the guy who would kill somebody for so much as looking at me wrong back in high school. And he’d just fucking pushed me.

He stood there panting, staring at me wide-eyed like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done.

Then he turned and bolted in the general direction of his house, leaving me with his keys and his truck in the parking lot.

14

CHRIS

What the fuck do you mean he pushed you?” Jesse said.

I’d just gotten back home and Jesse called to tell me he was picking up Mike.

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, changing back into my sweats. “You’ll get him home, then?”

“I mean, yeah. He called me to come get him from a gas station. I was in the middle of sleeping.”

“Good,” I said. “I’m going back to bed.”

“What the hell happened?” he asked.

“Let him tell you.”

I hung up.