Page 6 of Mr. Broody

“Yeah, Jade, a win-win,” Tweetie repeats.

I jut my jaw out at his sarcasm, but he only laughs because he knows something, and I feel as if he could be playing a game with me.

“What a birthday gift for Aubrie,” one of her friends says.

I glare at Tweetie, and the cocky smirk never leaves his lips. He has that whole sexy, “spend the night with me, and I’ll pay for your Uber home afterward” vibe. Not my type at all.

“Maybe Henry can come out here with the rookies?” I ask, crossing my legs, relaxing back into my seat even though I feel anything but relaxed.

Tweetie’s tongue slides out of his mouth and across his bottom lip. One of the girls at the table moans. He’s a player like no one I’ve ever seen. Almost as if he’s perfecting his moves in a mirror every night. “Daddy doesn’t come out of the back room.”

“Why?” Aubrie asks, leaning over further.

Good job, Tweetie, keep those eyes up.

“He’s quiet.” He lowers his gaze to mine. “You know what they say about the quiet ones, but you probably already know that to be true, right, Jade?”

The way he says my name assures me he knows something about my past with Henry.

“Yeah, he is kind of reserved,” Aubrie says. “But I haven’t seen him in a couple years.”

If she hasn’t seen him, where is he spending his holidays? He’s always spent them with Mom and Reed and my brothers. Usually, Aubrie and her parents come as well. He’s probably been avoiding it in case he runs into me. I hate that I have no idea what’s going on in his life. Where are his grandparents? God, I hope nothing happened to either of them. But I’m sure my mom would have told me. Then again, I told her three years ago—when I was being childish and hurt—that I didn’t want to hear anything about Henry anymore, and she’s kept her word. Probably because of all her issues with us back in the day.

I inwardly groan. Eventually, our paths will cross, and I don’t want to spend the entire time I’m in Chicago worrying that one day I’ll come home to find Henry in Reed’s home office. I’m a big girl. I can do this. Might as well get the awkwardness over with. He’ll know I’m home, and that will be that.

I slide off the stool and stare up at Tweetie. Shit, he’s even taller when we’re both on level ground. “Buy me a whiskey first.”

“Done,” Tweetie says, holding his arm out for me to go first.

I turn to Aubrie. “You don’t leave this bar without me, okay?”

“Okay, Mom,” one girl says, but I keep my gaze locked on Aubrie. I really don’t want to be chewed out by Chelsea in the morning.

She nods. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

I walk toward the bar, weaving through the tables, while most eyes are on the man behind me.

“I get it now,” he says from behind me.

“What?” I ask over my shoulder.

“Nothing.” He steps in front of me and leads me to the bar.

Tweetie puts my whiskey on his tab, and I wonder for a moment how big a tab he has here. Then he walks to the door and turns toward me, his hand resting on the handle, eyeing me with a teasing smile to suggest he doesn’t think I have the nerve to go through with this. But Tweetie knows nothing about me. Sometimes I hate the side of me that loves to prove people wrong.

I break the distance and inhale a deep breath.

“Ready to be reunited?” he asks, laughing and opening the door.

My eyes are like heat-seeking missiles, and I spot him immediately. The back of his head faces me, but I’d recognize that dirty-blond hair my fingers have weaved through millions of times anywhere. He’s staring up at the television, drinking a beer, and talking with friends. Hurt, anger, and guilt suddenly swamp me.

I step back to flee, but Tweetie swings his arm over my shoulders and propels us forward.

“Hey, everyone! We have a guest,” Tweetie says.

No one pays him much attention, meaning they must be used to him bringing girls in here. It’s all Falcons players I recognize and a handful of women. I don’t belong here. They’re like a little family, all cozy and close, and I feel like the evil stepmother with a basket of poisoned apples about to ruin everything good.

Tweetie moves us forward, and the door closes behind us. “This is Jade.”

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