Page 35 of The Bro Pact
Is he insane?
Or am I, and this is all a fever dream?
“Alright! Alright! Get your friends and get the fuck out of my bar, now! All of you!” the bartender yells, and I don’t blame him one bit.
I grab Ren under the armpit and yank him up from the dirty ground.
He winces in pain, uneasy on his feet and clearly intoxicated.
“What did you do?” I hiss under my breath, automatically accusing him of starting this stupid brawl. “Why are you even here?”
“Kyle!Buddy! How’re you doin’?” he slurs with a big smile on his face, his white teeth shining.
I keep a firm grip on his bicep, walking him toward the front door and ignoring the pandemonium behind me as the bartender gets the group of rowdy men to leave through the back exit, attempting to restore order.
Cool air hits my flushed face, and I take a deep breath, steering Ren around the side of the building before I rush him to Joyce’s waiting car.
He stumbles next to me as I practically drag him there.
“Get your giant paws off me,” Warren slurs, attempting to wrench his arm out of my grasp, but it’s fruitless. I’m much stronger than him. I clench my teeth, trying to have patience with his drunk ass.
Grabbing the front of his shirt, I bunch up the fabric and shove him against the outer wall. “Warren!” I shout, hoping I can cut through the haze of alcohol clouding his brain and his judgment.
I never use my size to overpower him, but he needs to listen before he gets himself hurt. “What the fuck were you doing talking shit to a group of guys bigger than you when you’re all alone in some shithole bar?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Warren grits out, his gray eyes darting off to the side as we hide in the darkness of the awning.
“Then enlighten me,” I demand. “Why are you always looking for trouble and toeing the line of danger?” I shake him a little, getting worked up. “Tell me why you always let yourself get hurt.”
I can see the bruise on his cheekbone blooming.
“I met them at the other bar, and they seemed pretty cool, ya know? Bought some drinks and said they were coming here next. I tagged along, and we played some darts and pool,” he answers, making eye contact with me again. “Then, I bought a round of beer for everyone before I crushed them at bothgames.” His gaze is intense, despite the alcohol, and I don’t look away. “Derek bought a round of shots since he was the loser. One round led to three, and long story short, everyone got wasted, and he propositioned me. I said no, then bam, you know the rest.”
He blinks slowly, and my heart skips a beat at his words, knowing just how drunk he actually is and how close he came to being taken advantage of.
Fuck.
I should never have let him drink alone. Especially not in a random bar in Utah.
I swallow thickly, still pressed against Ren and the side of the building, our faces inches apart.
“Why would he have propositioned you? For what?” My eyes scan his features, looking for any answer I can find.
Without saying a word, Warren sticks his tongue out, and my eyes dart down to the silver stud in it.
My nostrils flare and like a bull, I see red.
He wanted Ren to get on his knees in a dirty bar bathroom and suck his dick.
That motherfucker.
If I had known . . .
“Kyle, you’re shaking,” Ren whispers, and I don’t even realize how upset I am until he points it out. “It’s okay, Ky.Really.Take me home?” His eyes are droopy, blood-shot, and glassy. I haven’t seen him this fucked up since we were sixteen. “Please?”
“Yeah, Renny. Let’s get you home.” The old nickname slips out, and I put my arm around his shoulders, steering him toward Joyce’s car.
I open the door and help him in, buckling his seat belt before walking around and getting in on the other side.
