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Duke yanks me backjust in time for me to watch Cassidy’s friend Alison peel off down the road, taking Cassidy with her.
“You’re fuckin’ dead, Clark,” I growl, trying to go after him again, but now I’ve got Duke, Stan, and Tanner, all holding me back. The thing is, they’re not doing shit for the rage I have flaming inside of me right now over seeing Cassidy hurt.
Dan, the bouncer, has Garrett pinned up against the building as he hangs his head low with a mixture of blood, snot, and now vomit all over him. He’s on the verge of tears as Alex takes hold of him at the same time the owner of the bar, Roger, comes storming out.
“Stand down, both of you,” he shouts. “Or you’ll both be banned.”
My jaw is locked tight, grinding in time with the ticking bomb settled in my chest. I try to take in a deep breath, to reel my shitin.Try, being the key word. I shake off my brother and Stan and turn, heading to the dark end of the parking lot to cool down. They all follow. No doubt thinking I’m not done yet.
And I feelfarfrom fucking done.
I rub my face roughly. “Fuck.”
“What the hell happened back there, Butch?” Duke bites out.
I grit my teeth, turning back to look at Stan. “Was she okay?”
He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I didn’t get a look at it, but she had blood on her hands.”
“I asked you a fuckin’ question,” my brother barks at me, shoving me hard in the shoulder to get my attention. As if I didn’t hear him the first time. “What thefuckhappened back there?”
“Prick was looking for a fight,” I say. My jaw ticking, my fists flexing at my sides. “Same as he always is.”
Tanner snorts. “Well, he got it all right.”
“You don’t go after him over a damn accident.” Duke gets in my face. Venom and a harsh truth behind his words. “Garrett’s a lot of things, but he didn’t mean to hurt Cassidy. You want to release the beast, you do it on solid terms. That’s how it works. And you’ll be lucky if she ever speaks to you again after this shit.”
I grind my teeth, turning away from him. He’s right. I’ll be lucky if she ever does speak to me again, let alone doesn’t throw scalding coffee in my face come Monday morning.Fuck.Who am I kidding? I was lucky she even showed up tonight.
The whole night couldn’t have gone better. I don’t think I’ve ever had that good of a time with a woman over simple drinks and conversation. She’s even more amazing than I had originally thought.
She’s perfect.
And this is how the night ends.
“You better start using your head, bro. Cause if not, youwilldie alone on that fuckin’ mountain,” my brother threatenscoldly, pulling out his phone. “I’m calling you a cab; you’re done for the night.”
I don’t bother saying anything, there’s nothing left to say. He’s right. He always is. I fucked up. I should’ve gone to her, not after her goddamn brother.I don’t even know if she’s okay. And the thought alone is enough to have me drowning in guilt for the rest of my life.
There’s no doubt in my mind, I just lost my only shot at Cassidy Clark.
The next morning comes agonizingly slow. I’m hungover and emotionally torn the hell up over last night. I haven’t stopped thinking about it—about seeing her, making sure she’s okay.
Which is currently where I’m heading. I remembered her saying she had to work the afternoon shift today at the coffee shop. So, against all my better judgment, I’ve decided to go to her house instead of her work. I don’t want to make a scene in case she decides to tear me a new one.
Not that I’d blame her.
The plan is simple: ask if she’s okay, apologize, and leave. No more, no less. Stan told me to bring her flowers or something, but after the flower cup drama, I didn’t think that was as smooth of a move as he did.
Pulling up to her trailer, I park my truck beside her Jeep, kill the engine, and get out. Her place is tidy on the outside, with a few potted flowers here and there with a dog bed on the covered porch. There’s a small shed pushed up against the rear of the trailer, but that’s about it in the yard itself.
I blow out a rushed breath and thump up the porch steps. I wait a beat, suddenly second-guessing my plan.No, I tell myself,I’m here. She deserves an apologynow. Not another six months from now. I bring my fist up, knocking on her door.
Don’t be an asshole.Don’t be an asshole.
Barks from what must be her dog are followed by a rushed, “One second,” from Cassidy.
I take a step back, pushing my hands in my jeans pockets—a weak attempt at hiding the few cuts on my knuckles from last night. The door flies open, and I take in the sight of her. Her face is clean of makeup with a healing split bottom lip, and her hair is tossed up in a mess on top of her head. She’s got on an old, oversized band T-shirt that goes well past her ass, and a pair of plaid pajama shorts.
