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A needy moan escapes him, and he drops a hand to rub over his obvious erection.
“Are you commando?” He should not be that obvious in these pants. What the fuck?
“Yeah, my asshole boyfriend fucked me without a condom and made a big mess. I did what I had to do.” He rolls his eyes and turns away from me to stand in front of a urinal to take care of business. I cross my arms and lean against the wall across from him.
The door opens behind me, and Jared walks in, but stops when he sees us.
“Not holding it for him then.” He smirks at me like he’s got the right to fuck with me. Like I won’t do anything. He’s fucking wrong, and I’ve had it.
I get into his face, my chest bumping against his. “I’m so tired of your shit. Keep running your mouth and I’ll do my best to break your fucking jaw.”
“So you aren’t fucking both of the preacher's kids?”
That’s it. I’m done.
I slam my fist into his cheek. It catches him by surprise, and he stumbles back, but I’m not fucking done. He swings at me when I come for him again, and he gets my lip, probably splitting it open, but I’m so used to it I barely notice.
I hit him again, getting his nose this time. Blood gushes from it, and he cries out. He cups his nose and drops to his knees as tears fill his eyes. I shove him onto his back and sit on his chest to wail on him as he tries to block me, but he’s a shit fighter and always has been. I can’t let him talk shit about Jonah or Mary or me. If rumors get around that I’m fucking Jonah, I could lose him. I will die first and take out as many of these homophobic motherfuckers with me as I can.
“Roman!” My name echoes in the bathroom, but I can’t stop. I have to protect Jonah.
Someone pulls on my arm, but I shove them off, not looking to see who it is, too lost in the part of my head that demands I end the threat.
My knuckles split open, smearing more blood. Jared manages to get me off him, and we stumble to our feet. He swings at me, hitting me in the back when I turn to block it. He rushes me, pinning me against the sinks, but another hit to the face has him taking a step back.
“Roman! Stop!”
Jonah’s voice pulls my attention for just a second, but it’s long enough for Jared to get a hit to my cheek. The bathroom door opens, and footsteps echo around us before we’re pulled apart.
“Hey, man. Time to go.” A guy on my offensive line, John, has an arm wrapped around my chest, backing me toward the door.
“Jonah!” I snap as I shrug out of John's hold. Jonah rushes past me to the door, and I aim a death glare at Jared. “You’re fucking done. I’m going to make your life a living hell until I leave.”
I grab Jonah’s arm, pulling him toward the front door. I need to get him out of here.
Outside, the goddamn Boone brothers are standing next to my truck. The youngest brother, Daryl, with a shotgun in his hand. I hate this goddamn town. Jonah runs into the back of me as I’ve come to a sudden stop. How the hell did they even get here? I don’t see their truck in the lot.
“Oh, shit,” Jonah whispers into my back.
Will tonight’s bullshit never end? Everything is stacking against us tonight, and I’m running on fumes.
“Get the fuck away from my truck.” My words are clear and loud enough for everyone to hear me.
“Y’all ain’t welcome here,” Rodney, the oldest brother, says. Everything about him screams dirty. They spend more time in the bar than anywhere else, and their clothes are stained, ripped, and filthy. I can smell the body odor from here.
“I don’t want to die,” Jonah whimpers. A plan forms in my head, and I focus on my terrified boyfriend long enough to give him detailed instructions.
“I’m going to distract them. Grab the gun from under the backseat. Cock it and fire it into the air.” My voice is quiet enough that they don’t hear me. I slide my hand into my pocket and pull out my keys.
When I step toward them, I drop them for Jonah to grab.
“Why do you need three grown men to fight two teenagers?” I move to my left, so they turn away from the truck. “Y’all need to tag team Rodney’s wife to keep her satisfied too?”
That gets his attention, and he comes for me with his face reddening and his chest puffed out. Since it’s clear he isn't sober, he trips over his own boots and falls face first onto the blacktop.
“You’re pathetic,” I sneer, backing up, goading him into following me. The middle brother, James, slides a set of brass knuckles on, then the three of them come at me full force. I have a split second to see Jonah race for the truck before I turn and take off.
Run. Run. Run.
