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Rolling her eyes, she takes one of my hands and pulls me to the bar. "Let's get you a few shots, and you will forget all about your clothes. Which, by the way, are sexy as sin." Ordering us a few lemon drops, she turns to me with a conspiratorial look. "So, tell me about you and my brothers."
I feel my cheeks heat even further and move to pick my hair up off my neck. Gabby stops the move, grumbling about messing it up. Throwing my hands in the air, I pout. "I have no idea! I'm leaving next week, so nothing can really happen."
"Would you consider long distance?"
The mini glasses slide over the bar, which we toss back greedily. "Long distance, Pixie? We aren't even in a relationship."
Her flirtatious look with the bartender ends with her scoff. "It sure looks like a relationship from where I'm standing. Stop lying to yourself, Ry. Tell me what you’re actually feeling."
"I…"Fuck.I have no idea what to say. Bless the hunk behind the bar because he hands me another shot with an encouraging nod. I swear Gabby swoons. Slamming the lemon drop, I finally decide to confide in the only friend I have ever had. "It's hard to admit because I'm leaving, but I think I'm falling in love with them."
"All four, right?" Gabby screeches and bounces in front of me. At least someone's excited and not stuck on the fact that it will literally never work. I nod. "OMFG! Okay, so what do you think would happen if you wouldn't have to leave?"
"Let's not play fairytale, please."
"No, I'm serious, Rylee. Just answer the question," she encourages.
The shots warm my throat, allowing the words to slip through with far more ease than I would have liked. "Well, Layla told me she loves them. I know she wants us to stay with them. I mean, hell, she accused me of loving them too. I guess I would give it a shot. But Layla always comes first, so if that's not what she wanted, then I would deal with my broken pieces."
Gabby eyes me, her pink hair wild around her cheeks. "Kind of like you are right now?" I huff in response. She knows she's right, and I don't want to talk about it anymore. "Alright! Let's go dance!"
The switch in topic is much appreciated. Trailing behind her, I hold on tight to her hand. She's so damn small I would easily lose her in this crowd. Pink hair and purple dress are of no use if the one wearing them is teeny as fuck.
I'd say the worst part about having a girl’s night out is the number of men who think it's a free pass. When I went out with the guys or just Jude, I swear no man came near me. Whether it was them keeping the randos away or not, I appreciated the hell out of it. I'm fine acting like Pixie is my girlfriend when I need to, but I just want to let loose. All the stares and unwelcome touches are making me fucking itchy.
Gabby, on the other hand, is loving the attention she's getting from one of the bartender’s friends. She had been pushing people away from us all night, but this guy walked up and introduced himself. Pretty sure Pixie fell in love at first sight. His blonde hair has streaks of blue through it. They look so damn cute together. I hope they see each other again after tonight.
My mood instantly sours when a cold splash coats my arm. "Ah! Son of a bitch!" Mother fucker!
"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!"
I turn my glare on a group of girls, one of them with a tiara that has the number twenty-one on it. Fucking birthday bitches. Annoyed, I get Gabby's attention and shout that I need to go clean my sticky arm. She nods, concerned, but I give my friend a thumbs up and a wink. Pixie settles back into the man’s chest and loses herself to the music once again.
Grumbling, I shove myself through the grinding bodies. The bass thumping against my chest lessens when I finally stumble out of the crowd of grabby hands and giggling girls. Shaking off some of my frustration, I strut to the bathroom on a mission to get my good mood back.
Peeing quickly and cleaning my arm, I take a moment to look in the mirror. Some of my anxiety about being alone rises, but Tate has eyes on Mason, so I should be fine. I'm an adult. I should be able to go to the bathroom alone.
Another group of girls come into the bathroom, shouting and laughing without a care in the world. I should be like that too. Yet here I am, trying not to panic about my asshole of an ex. Taking a deep sigh, I relax and try to soak in some of their free-spirited energy. I offer them a smile when I slip by and out the bathroom door.
A group of frat-looking boys rush down the hallway, hooting and hollering.Don't be annoyed. Don't be annoyed.They are probably with the group of girls that just walked into the bathroom too. I shuffle back and to the side, so they don’t run into me or stomp on my toes. Then, I try not to be mad that most of them linger in the hallway ahead of me while the rest go do their business. At least they are all sticking together. Hopefully, they keep an eye on their girlfriends tonight, too.
I’m distracted by my thoughts of how wonderful it would be to have such a great group of friends to look after you. So, I don't notice one of their guys moving around the back of the group with a hoodie covering his head and most of his face. I decide it's probably time for me to get out of this back corner and hope one of the rowdy boys doesn't shove me by accident.
My first attempt at pushing through them is cut short.
A rough hand clamps over my mouth, and an arm grabs my waist in a bruising hold. Before I can let out a scream of horror, I'm immediately twirled away from the group of frat boys who never once fucking noticed me in the dark hallway.
The sweaty palm over my mouth slips and slides across my cheeks as he forces me out the back door. The cool night air does nothing to help my overheated skin when I finally catch a whiff of Mason's nasty Axe cologne. Working through my options, I attempt to kick out at his shins, but I'm tossed to the ground before I can even fight back.
"Where the fuck is my daughter?!" A kick to my gut forces my body to curl in on itself. Déjà vu makes my vision tilt. The cold cement wavers from the alleyway to the hard kitchen floor of Mason's house. "Answer me, you selfish bitch!"
Ican't. With the wind knocked out of me, all I can do is wheeze and whimper. Each inhale feels like mini stab wounds. The pain in my stomach doubles when his meaty fist bashes into my side, most likely fracturing a rib. Spit leaks from my mouth during my silent scream.
"Layla isn't at your piece of shit house. So let me ask you again, who has my fucking kid?!" The scream that rips out of me is yanked free from the fiery pain in my scalp. I wouldn't be able to stand if it weren't for the fierce grip he has on my hair.
I catch sight of him for the first time in over a year. His hair is still buzzed, beard still neatly kept, and his muscles make him double my width. Mason is still the monster I remember. The difference, though?
The world spins, and the next thing I feel is a vicious scrape against my left cheek. Shoved against the brick wall of a building, my torso screams at the weight of Mason pressed against me.
