Page 54 of Past the Broken Bridges

When he doesn’t answer, I know it has to do with Marco or one of the goons who still help Marco out even after his expulsion.

“Daws—”

He walks past me, bumping my shoulder forcefully untilI stumble back. “Don’t worry about it. Why don’t you go hang out withSawyerand get off my back?”

Sawyer? “What is that supposed to mean?”

He rubs his nose, sniffing who knows what. Now I’m wondering why I let him disappear for more than ten minutes when he got here and said he had to piss. It never takes him that long, even at parties. If the line is too long, he goes outside and finds a spot.

“I saw you two,” he tells me. “Last night.”

The back of my neck burns when I think about the figure I saw outside the building when Sawyer got out of my truck. “I don’t know what it is you think you saw, but—”

“Don’t do that. Don’t gaslight me.” He shoves the bag into my chest, but I don’t catch it in time before it falls to the floor. Pretzels go everywhere, making me cuss. “You two were practically making out in your truck. It’s like Desiree all over again. I asked you to figure out if she liked anybody, and you went in for the kill like you always do. It pisses you off that I have women who like me more than you because you’ve always been jealous of what I have.”

He honestly thinks that? Maybe there was a time when I was jealous of his home life. How his parents, even though divorced, are amicable. Maybe I have wanted what he’s had a time or two before. But not now. “No offense, buddy, but you’ve got too many problems for me to want to jump on the Dawson Gable train.”

His glare is ice-cold.

“For the record, we never made out.Shekissedme. Just like Desiree did. Hit me if that’s what’s going to make you feel better, but don’t go back to using because you’re pissed. This isn’t like before. It’s not worth losing all the work youput in to get sober.”

I don’t know how he got back in contact with the people who put him in that position to begin with, but I’d like to think it has nothing to do with me.

“You’re really going to act like this isn’t history repeating itself?” he asks, dumbfounded. “I know you slept with her.”

“I never slept with Sawyer.”

“WithDesiree.” He shoves a finger into my shoulder. “Try to tell me you didn’t. Go ahead. I fucking dare you. You never change.”

“I already apologized for that. This is nothing like with Desiree. She made her decision aboutbothof us. She’s gone. Let’s not forget that. I thought we moved on.”

He grabs one of the liquor bottles that somebody left on the counter and uncaps it, taking a swig of the cheap vodka. “I thought we did too until I saw you drooling over Sawyer.”

I try taking the bottle from him, but he whips it away, almost falling over. “Last I heard, you’ve been spending a lot of time with her friend, so how much do you really care about her? Be honest with yourself, dude. You have no fucking idea what you want these days.”

Dawson’s face grows red. “Did you ever think that maybe it’s nice to have options for once? You wouldn’t know what it’s like because you’ve always gotten what you wanted whenever the hell you wanted it.”

A laugh bursts past my lips, bitter and cold. If that’s what he thinks, he doesn’t know me well at all. He’s never tried to see past the mask that I wear every goddamn day of my life. “That’s ridiculous. Look, I don’t want to do this. You’re not in your right mind. Let’s talk about this tomorrow. Maybe cut out early. We can get the girls andhead back to—”

“Speak of the devil,” he announces loudly, pushing off the counter and walking toward the doorway, where Sawyer is standing and looking between us with skepticism on her face. “It’s our girl, Banks. Sawyer, do me a favor.”

Her eyes widen when she sees how drunk he is, smile wavering when he stumbles toward her. He’s got at least a foot on her, so trying to catch him is pointless, but she puts her hands on his arms all the same.

“Are you okay?” she asks him.

Anger bubbles under my skin as he invades her personal space, and I know he’s doing this on purpose to get to me.

Dawson nearly drops the glass bottle when he loops one arm around her waist and says, “Do me a favor and let me know which one of us is a better kisser.”

I see the frazzled look that widens her eyes right before his mouth is crushing hers.

It takes me a microsecond to go over and rip him off her, causing them both to stagger backward. I let Dawson go and manage to stabilize Sawyer before she hits the table set up behind her.

What I don’t expect is for my best friend to grab me and swing his fist as hard as he can until it connects with the side of my face. It’s a solid hit, made stronger by whatever is coursing through his veins right now.

Sawyer gasps when I land on the floor, my body loudly thumping into the linoleum. Her hands cover her red-painted lips as she steps back to assess the scene. My eyes blur from the hit, face stinging with pain that’ll surely be a headache in a matter of hours.

Dawson falls too, the vodka bottle shattering on the floor. Suddenly, there’s blood mixed with the clear liquor,and I realize he must have landed on the glass.

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