Page 65 of Jesse's Girl

“Hey, I’m sorry you had to deal with that asshole,” I offer, glancing at Ada sidelong.

“Yeah. Thanks.” She folds her arms over her chest, rubbing her upper arms.

I bend my right wrist experimentally, testing out where and how much my hand aches in various positions.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with him too,” she says, sounding bewildered—and still slightly stunned. “And I’m sorry you had to hear him say that shit.”

“Fucking asshole.” I shake my head. “You gonna be okay?”

“Me? You’re the one with the fucked-up hand.”

“I mean, it’s only moderately fucked up,” I say with a smirk.

She presses her full lips together and looks away. I think I catch an eye roll as her hands slide over her arms again.

“Cold?”

“It’s fine. We’re almost home.”

Inside the apartment, we kick off our shoes and Ada hangs her purse over the back of a chair. “I guess I should thank you,” she says, then drops her gaze to her hands, “for, you know, defending my honor or whatever.” Her voice has a teasing tone but still seems guarded.

“I shouldn’t have overreacted. I mean, the guy was a dick, but… that’s your workplace.”

“Yeah, that part… wasn’t great.” Her brows draw together, like there’s more she can’t bring herself to admit. The vulnerability on her face is so out of character that I have to do something.

“Hey, come here,” I say, pulling her into my arms before I can think better of it. She slips hers around my waist and I close my eyes, unable to stop myself from inhaling her sweet scent. I rest my chin on her head. “What he said was not okay. And you did great handling it. I just…” I trail off and let out a breath, not knowing how to tell her what I felt in that moment—not wanting to think too hard about why his words hit a nerve. “I couldn’t let him talk about you like that.”

“I have to say, it was kinda satisfying to watch.” Her words come out muffled against my T-shirt, her warm breath heating my chest through the fabric. With a smile in her voice, she adds, “He went down like a bag of rocks.”

“It’s what he deserved.”

I realize she’s playing idly with the fabric of my shirt, my attention suddenly attuned to the gentle graze of her fingers against my back. I force myself to pull away and clear my throat.

“I don’t know why I’m upset about it,” she says, stepping back and wiping away a few tears. “Sorry.”

“No. You have every right to be. He was fucking awful.”

“Yeah, but I usually handle that shit myself just fine,” she says with a frown.

“Does that kind of thing happen a lot?” I push down the anger that threatens to rise up. I’ve seen her deal with a few drunks, but I hate the idea of her getting spoken to that way on a regular basis.

She shrugs. “I mean, not always that bad. But yeah, kind of. It’s part of the job, unfortunately. You make good money with tips and all, but… that’s the downside.”

“Shit, Ada.” I say, rubbing my forehead. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes flick my way and she nods.

“I could have killed that guy,” I say quietly, almost to myself.

“Yeah, so where did that protective shit come from?”

I drop my gaze, keenly aware of how it must have looked—how it had felt. I don’t know how to explain.

“Like, dude, I’m not exactly a damsel in distress.”

I laugh wryly at the truth of that statement. “Believe me, dude, I know. But you’re Marcus’ sister. He would have done the same thing. So, I feel like I should look out for you. Plus, you’re…” I trail off, biting my lip to stop myself from talking.

“I’m what?”

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