"No." I hold up my hand. "JT and I are fine. Thanks for the offer. Caden has been very attentive. He really pays attention to details, that one. Gets into every nook and cranny to cover his bases. Well, only to third base technically. Isn't that right?" I catch Caden's eyes and then the tremble of his shoulders. But he says nothing. Fucking nothing.
Bear's eyebrow cocks. "Yes, ma'am?"
I smile. I put every ounce of anger and understanding in my grin, and I turn away from him to focus on someone new. Screw you, Caden Lawless. It's a chant, a goddamn cheer that starts with two, four, six, eight. Pretty damn great, huh? I won't be used. Right or wrong, I want to hurt him the way he hurts me.
"Who's your friend?" I point behind Bear. "Don't be shy."
"Patrick, ma'am. My pleasure." He's cute too. Shaved bald and tan, with brown eyes that scream lonely or sad, hallowed out as if he's seen too much and can't escape the memory.
"No ma'ams here, but how about a beer on me? I don't mean on me, like on me, but on my tab."
He cracks a smile, and I take it as a sign it's okay to grab his hand and pull him away from this mess. I flash my super grin at Caden and Bear, adding a "Toodles" as I haul the giant to the bar.
Petty Officer First Class Patrick Garrison is a man of few words, one of them being ma'am. I work diligently to rid him of the nasty habit over the next thirty minutes, keeping tabs on Caden out of the corner of my eye. He's with Bear and Leah. My irritation simmers. Cara pops in with hugs, lots of hugs, and a shot for her and the SEAL. I abstain. I'd really like to go home. My gut churns because I turned in the keys and let go of the cottage for wishful thinking.
Caden is still your friend.
I hate when Justin's voice is in my head, pointing out the obvious. Well, duh, yeah, he is. But what if I don't want to live with him anymore? How's that for an understanding? I rock out my cheer with an imagined high kick and throw a snicker in Caden's direction. He glances up as I do, blinking away his vulnerability and hiding behind his whiskey bottle. I've never seen him drink like this. A sliver of pain slides through his turquois eyes but a long swig follows, dimming the light. Brushing the back of his hand across his lips, he flicks his gaze at Patrick, and then Leah sneaks into his side to whisper in his ear. Bitter resentment roars to life in my chest, and I hate it. I hate that I feel something for a man that vacillates with uncertainty. Better for him to leave now than in a month or when JT will remember the loss.
Tears rush my eyes, but I bat my lashes and force my focus to Cara until she steps away. Then I tell Patrick my sorrows. Not in so many words, but he learns all about my dumpy cabin in the woods and the bakery that's more about freedom and taking care of myself-I don't need anyone. I repeat it for good measure. He nods in the right places, and I order him another beer and he asks for a side of whiskey. Fair enough. By the time I finish my story, he's downed two tumblers and a second pint of Yuengling.
I'm not completely selfish. I ask questions about him, but his brief answers don't exactly encourage depth and details.
When I look across the room, Leah flips her hair. I flip mine.
She smirks. I smirk.
She laughs. I laugh.
She touches. I-that's taking things too far.
But Patrick doesn't think so. "Want to get out of here?" he asks, his hand landing on my hip.
Everything after that is a blur. Caden has him by the neck, and his voice sends chills down my spine. "Hands off what's mine, Garrison."
"Oh, screw you, Caden Lawless!" I punch his bicep as my scream echoes in the now silent bar.
That's all it takes. One angry-as-hell SEAL and my freak-out drag every pair of eyes our way.
Garrison uses Caden's momentary distraction to twist out of his grip and shove. Caden's thigh crumbles, and he uses a table to catch his fall, cracking the leg. His eyes flame wide. He lunges. Bear steps in. One fist coils in Garrison's shirt, the other in Caden's, and they're both snarling but out the door a second later.
Leah's blue eyes find mine for a second. Is that sympathy? Then she turns to follow.
I'm left with the carnage: a broken table and my scattered breath. My pride stings, too.
"Honey?" Cara says with another hug.
"I'm so sorry." I squeeze for just a second and then push away while hanging onto her shoulders. "I'm going to go. I'll talk with Stan about the table."
"Hell no you won't. Dax is taking care of it. Caden can come back in the morning and clean the place as penance. Are you okay?"