Page 59 of Bitter Beats

Mckenna sighs again and runs a hand through her hair. “Bran?”

Bran. Not Branson. A nickname. “Yeah,” I snap. “Who is he? Why the hell does he have a nickname?”

Mckenna tosses out a hand. “A guy in my law school.” She shakes her head. “And he doesn’t have a nickname. Everyone calls him Bran. And I met him my first day of law school. We sat next to each other in Constitutional Law. Burton, Byrne.” She points to her chest, indicating the class must have sat in alphabetical order. Fucking weird but whatever.

“And?”

“And…nothing.” She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Mckenna, are you fucking with me? Your reaction at dinner, that shit wasn’t nothing.”

She closes her eyes for a long beat, inhaling as if searching for patience. Her eyes open, dull, devoid of their usual sparkle. “It’s complicated.”

“I figured.” Something happened between them.Did they date? Did he break her heart? Did he hurt her?

My anger spikes at the thought and my hands clench into fists.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” I counter, growing more disturbed by her avoidance of the topic.

She shakes her head. “Just let it go, Mav. I promise Bran won’t ruin whatever this is.” She gestures between us. “Your reputation won’t take a hit because of him.”

My molars click together, and my jaw tightens at her insinuation. “You think that’s what I’m worried about? My reputation?”

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Of course. What else would you be worried about?”

Her meaning is crystal clear.Not her.Why the hell would I be concerned about her? She’s not my real girlfriend; hell, we aren’t even real friends. Even though I’m trying. Even though she’s trying. At the end of the day, this is a mutually beneficial arrangement. A sham relationship.

“Nothing,” I bite out, disappointment coating my tongue.

“Exactly.” She sounds resigned. Dipping her head, she adds, “Good night, Mav.”

I watch her climb the stairs and hear her bedroom door close.

Heaving out a sigh, I move to the kitchen and open my laptop. Pulling up a search engine, I type out Branson Burton.

And fucking despise every piece of information I learn about the politician’s son. It seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I already know Bran Burton will be a more significant complication than Mckenna thinks.

Picking up the phone, I deliberate on who to call. Eventually, I dial Aiden.

I hate that he has a connection with Mckenna—and I intend to get to the bottom of it. But right now, that connection, coupled with Aiden’s legal skills and network, is my best step forward to securing answers.

He picks up on the first ring.“What’s up, Tate?”

“I need your help with something.”

“Shoot.”

“First, I need to know if there’s something going on—or was there ever something going on—between you and Mckenna?”

Aiden scoffs. “I was wondering when you’d call.”

He’s quiet for a few beats and the silence eats at me, conjuring awful images of Aiden and Mckenna out for dinner, laughing, sharing a kiss. Fuck. Did they date?

“She’s a good woman, Mav,” he says finally.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I spit back.

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