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She shakes her head. “I fell.”
I feel anger well up inside me as I see fear in her eyes and then spot her cell on the exam table.
“He called you, didn’t he?” I ask the question I already know the damn answer to.
“I called him for a ride,” she lies as she turns around and walks over to grab her purse.
“Chloe, we can—” I stop when York elbows me and shakes her head.
“Sorry to waste your time.” Chloe attempts to walk past me, and I block her.
York grabs my elbow and pulls me out of the way.
As soon as the door closes behind Chloe, I glare at York. “What the eff?”
She rolls her eyes as she taps on her phone and then puts it on speaker. “Marks, it’s York.”
“And here I thought it was Scarlet Davies, confirming our date tonight.”
She rolls her eyes. “Charges weren’t pressed, but Spud is headed to Walton Med to pick her up. I’m gonna guess he won’t pass a breathalyzer.”
“Evil genius,” I whisper, and she winks at me.
“And I’m gonna guess he has a taillight out.” Marks chuckles. “Good work, York.”
She ends the call and looks at me. “You secure a safe place for her to stay. I’ll take her to get her clothes after Marks cuffs that piece of shit and tosses his ass in the drunk tank.”
“I’ve got a call in at Hawkins. What time is your shift over?” I ask her.
“Eleven. You?”
“Same. Buy you a drink?” I ask.
She nods. “See you in two hours.”
I’d love to say the night got better but …
Walking into Ollie’s half an hour late, I spot York and head toward her but stop dead in my tracks when I see her toss her head back in … laughter? York doesn’t laugh. Heck, she almost never smiles—hasn’t since I can remember.
Shocked, I glance at Charlie, who silently chuckles as he sets a beer on the bar in front of the empty seat next to hers. Sidling up next to her, I see that she’s laughing at Danny, which makes sense—he’s a funny guy.
When she reaches across the bar to grab a napkin to literally wipe tears from under her eye, she notices me. “Well, look who we have here, the home-wrecker herself.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, totally confused.
“Not so much a home-wrecker as she is a cockblocker.” Danny leans forward, and I see his busted lip.
“Who’d you run your mouth to now?” I ask.
He throws his thumb over his shoulder. “No one, just this guy teaching me a lesson.”
And then a guy on the other side of them with a full head of messy, thick, dark brown hair rises from the barstool like a phoenix from the flames. “Hey, Whit.”
I try my best not to fully take in John Paul, which is very, very difficult since he and I … we’ll just leave it there.
“Pope.”
He saunters toward me with a different kind of confidence than I’ve ever seen in him, wraps his arms around me, and pulls me into a hug.
