Page 17 of Midnight Mate
I pushed to my feet, turning to face my old friend, and Angus’s eyes went wide.
“East? Holy shit. Is that you, man?” He pulled me into a hug complete with a slap on the back. “How the hell are you?”
“Falling apart,” I said with a grin.
“That’s what I hear.”
“Did you? Well. At least they’re still talking about me.”
Angus laughed and held up a hand to signal the bartender. “Usual,” Angus told him, and the guy went to work on pouring a beer.
“Leslie told Jake she saw you earlier.”
“Jake Bradford?”
“Yep, they’re married now with three kids.”
“That’s great to hear.”
Jake had been a good guy who’d wanted nothing more than a family to raise in the Falls. I was glad Leslie had ended up with him.
“How you been?” Angus asked.
I could feel my father’s eyes on us, but I ignored him. Finally, I’d found someone I could actually call “friend” in this town.
“Great until I busted my knee.” I patted my leg.
“Damn. That’s a bummer.” His tone was light. Unconcerned. And even though I knew it was because he assumed I was already mending thanks to my wolf healing, his lack of sympathy was comforting somehow.
Like my injury didn’t define me.
In every other area of my life, it sure had.
Angus glanced over and finally noticed my dad. “Mr. Raines. How are ya?”
Angus extended a hand, his behavior more formal than it had been with me.
My dad’s lip curled, and he turned away. Angus lowered his hand.
My back stiffened.
“Dad. This is Angus, an old friend.”
“I know Angus.” He’d probably meant to sound cold, but thanks to the drink in him, he came off petulant.
I opened my mouth, ready to blast him for being an asshole. But Angus shook his head. “Not worth it, East.”
Twenty-eight years’ worth of anger boiled over, though, and I couldn’t stop it now.
“You’re being rude.” Unlike my father, my tone was clear and sober—and icy cold.
“What I am is none of your damn business.” My dad whirled to face us. Too late, I realized he’d wanted this to escalate. To run his mouth. “Angus here thinks he runs shit, but he doesn’t run me.”
Here it came.
The chatty, fun phase was over. We were on to angry.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I asked.
