His brows shot up. “That’s it?”
“I need my oil changed and it costs, like, thirty dollars. I can buy a lot of stuff with thirty dollars. A lot of stuff I want. I don’t want oil. My car does but I don’t.”
“Tabby, sugar, your dad part-owns the most kick-ass garage this side of the Mississippi and most of the other side, and you’re paying for oil changes?”
Her eyes slid away and he knew why.
Fuck.
She was doing it to avoid him. Still.
Serious as shit, this had to stop.
So he was going to stop it.
“We play pool and we get drunk and we enjoy it, that’s our plan, so let’s get this shit out of the way,” he stated. Her eyes slid back to him and he said flat out, “I fucked up. It was huge. It was a long time ago but it marked you. You were right. I was a dick. I made assumptions, they were wrong and I acted on ’em and I shouldn’t have and that was more wrong. I wish you would have found the time to get in my face about it years ago so we could have had it out, but that’s done. When you did get in my face about it, I should have sorted my shit, found you, and apologized. I didn’t do that either. I’d like to know why you dialed my number tonight, but if you don’t wanna share that shit, that’s cool too. I’ll just say, babe, I’m glad you did. You need a safe place just to forget shit and escape, I’ll give it to you. Tonight. Tomorrow. Next week. Next month. That safe place is me, Tabby. But I don’t want that old shit haunting this. Ghosts haunt until you get rid of them. Let’s get rid of that fuckin’ ghost and move on so I can beat your ass at pool.”
As he spoke, he saw the tears pool in her eyes but he kept going, and when he stopped he didn’t move even though it nearly killed him. Not to touch her, even her hand. Not to give her something.
It killed.
Before he lost the fight to hold back, she whispered, “You are never gonna beat my ass at pool.”
That was when he grinned, leaned forward, and wrapped his hand around hers sitting on the bar.
“Get ready to have your ass kicked,” he said softly.
“Oil changes for a year,” she returned softly.
“You got it but cookies for a year,” he shot back.
“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she replied.
He’d eat her cookies, they were brilliant or they sucked. If Tabitha Allen made it, he’d eat anything.
Shy didn’t share that.
He gave her hand a squeeze, nabbed the bottle, and took off down the bar toward the cues on the wall.
Tabby followed.
* * *
They were in the dark, in his bed, in his room in the Compound.
Shy was on his back, eyes to the ceiling.
Tabby was three feet away, on her side, her chin was tipped down.
She was obliterated.
Shy wasn’t even slightly drunk.
She’d won four games, he’d won five.
Cookies for a year.
Now, he was winning something else, because tequila didn’t make Tabitha Allen a happy drunk.
It made her a talkative one.
It also made her get past ugly history and trust him with absolutely everything that mattered right now in her world.
“DOA,” she whispered to the bed.
“I know, sugar,” he whispered to the ceiling.
“Where did you hear?” she asked.
“Walkin’ into the Compound, boys just heard and they were taking off.”
“You didn’t come to the hospital.”
He was surprised she’d noticed.
“No. I wasn’t your favorite person. Didn’t think I could help. Went up to Tack and Cherry’s, helped Sheila with the boys,” he told her.
“I know. Ty-Ty told me,” she surprised him again by saying. “That was cool of you to do. They’re a handful. Sheila tries but the only ones who can really handle them are Dad, Tyra, Rush, Big Petey, and me.”
Shy didn’t respond.
“So, uh… thanks,” she finished.
“No problem, honey.”
She fell silent and Shy gave her that.
She broke it.
“Tyra had to cancel all the wedding plans.”
“Yeah?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah,” she answered. “Second time she had to do that. That Elliott guy wasn’t dead when she had to do it for Lanie, but still. Two times. Two weddings. It isn’t worth it. All that planning. All that money…” she pulled in a shaky breath “… not worth it. I’m not doing it again. I’m never getting married.”
At that, Shy rolled to his side, reached out and found her hand lying on the bed.
He curled his hand around hers, held tight and advised, “Don’t say that, baby. You’re twenty-two years old. You got your whole life ahead of you.”