“Don’t. I need to go, and if you don’t move, I’ll move you.”
I step to the side, but grab his arm when he walks past me. “Luke, just tell me where you’re going. Why is it so fucking secretive?”
He wrenches his arm out of my grasp, glaring at me over his shoulder. “Stop, Tessa. Jesus Christ. If I want you to know shit, I’ll fucking tell you.”
The door slams shut behind him, and I suddenly no longer want to be here. In fact, the only thing I don’t regret about today is spewing my hatred to Luke—I only wish I had done it without him between my legs.
I quickly slip into my jeans that are now completely dry, tuck my shirt and bra under my arm, grab my keys from upstairs, and walk out to the garage. I stick the battery back in my phone and power it on, grateful when the screen lights up. On the way out to my car, I notice three missed calls on my cell phone. Two from Mia and one from Reed. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now. The one person I wanted to talk to still won’t give me anything, and I was stupid to think he would after what happened between us today.
But people don’t change. They’ll always disappoint you, and I can’t keep holding out for someone who will never give me what I want. I need to let go of Luke, but that’s easier said than done.
I hear the commotion inside the bar before I even get the door open. I should turn around, go back home to be with Tessa and keep this piece of shit out of my life. That’s where I want to be—with her. She drives me completely insane, but I fucking live for that. Even sitting a floor below her while she sleeps in my bed settles me somehow. I don’t need to be in direct contact with her to feel the effect she has on me. But that shouldn’t be a surprise. It’s how it’s always been with Tessa. The proof of that is in the excruciating year I’ve had, knowing she was within a fifteen mile radius of me, that at any point in time I could’ve gone to her and satisfied my need to see her. I’d diverted my thoughts to those of hate, tried to push out everything else I’d never wanted to feel. But now that I’ve gotten all my animosity toward Tessa out of my system, there’s nothing distracting me from that constant throbbing desire I have to be near her.
Nothing except for this bullshit.
Stepping inside, I immediately spot Ray and one of the other bartenders, their arms wrapped around my dad as they strain to keep him in the far corner of the bar, away from the liquor. He’s putting up a fight, and I know it’s because he’s sober. That’s the only time he can actually give you any amount of physical resistance. He’ll just run his mouth when he’s drunk. Put a few drinks in him and he becomes a stumbling, mouthy idiot; the version of him I’d actually prefer to deal with right now. Because when he’s completely coherent like this, fully aware of how much of an asshole he’s being, this version of him has my right hand curling into a fist.
I push through the crowd that’s gathered around the scene, shoving the dickheads back who think this is some kind of a fucking show for them to amuse themselves with. Ray sees me over his shoulder, a look of relief washing over him as I step up in front of the three men.
My dad raises his head and laughs. He fucking laughs.
“If you think I’m leaving here without getting a drink first, you got another thing coming,” he says, leaning into the hands holding him against the wall.
He looks put together, for the most part. His typical flannel shirt is tucked into his jeans, and his hair is pulled back, out of his face. Plus he seems to have showered today, unlike the last time I saw him. But even sober, he still looks like a desperate drunk—irrational and half-mad, willing to do anything for that one drink. And I’m too pissed not to see how far he’ll go to get it.
I step closer, holding my arms outstretched. “You want a drink? How about this then?” I stab a finger against my chest. “I’ll fucking buy you one. All you have to do is get past me.”
“The hell, man?” Ray asks, wide-eyed. “What are you doing?”
I’m sure he’s wondering how I’m gonna match up against a guy who’s got at least twenty pounds of muscle on me. I’d be concerned myself, but I’m too geared up right now to give a shit.
My dad smiles, his eyes twinkling with optimism. “Yeah? You think I won’t lay you out, boy?”
I step closer, the adrenaline spiking in my blood. “I don’t know. Let’s find out.”
“Shit, Jack,” Ray says, pressing against my dad’s chest. “You need help. Serious help, man. Why don’t you let Luke take you home?”
“Take me home?” he repeats mockingly. His chin tilts up and he looks at me straight on, grinning like he’s just won the fucking lottery. “You heard him. He wants to buy me a drink. I’d be a damn fool to pass that up.”
Ray looks back at me. “You better know what you’re doing.”
“Are we really going to let them go at it?” the other bartender, Pete, finally speaks, struggling to maintain his hold on a man who is now highly motivated to come at me.
Ray steps back, causing Pete to scramble to grab hold of my dad, but Pete’s half the size of him, and Dad easily barrels at me. He wraps his arms around my waist and takes me down to the floor, hard, hitting me with all his weight.
My head slams against the hardwood, distorting my vision, as the weight on top of me crushes my lungs like an accordion. I gasp in a breath when I’m able to roll him off, and I try to flip him to his stomach to immobilize him, but for a fifty-year-old man, my dad moves like a Goddamn ninja.