Page 83 of End Game
“No. I’m taking Layla’s side.” Poppy strides through the living room and grabs her purse. She shoves her way past us and heads to her car. “You both need to have a little faith in our girl. And until you,” she says, glaring at Finn, “can get your head out of your ass, don’t come for mine.”
Her tires squeal as she takes off down the road. When I turn back to Finn, he’s still looking at the street.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I came over here to apologize. You’re a great guy, a good friend, and a hell of a brother. I don’t want to get between the two of you.”
“You already did that.”
“I’m trying to fix that. I’m trying to make things better for her. I can’t do that and not be a part of her life, not talk to her at all. Don’t you see the position you’re putting me in?”
“Nah, you put yourself in this position,” he says, grabbing the door. “Go home, Branch. We’re done here.”
The door shuts, the Legends flag on the door bouncing, as I turn and head back to my car.
Layla
“So you aren’t even knocking now?” I laugh as Poppy waltzes into my kitchen unannounced.
“I have a key. Why knock?” She sets her purse on a barstool then heads to the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of wine. “You can’t drink this anymore, so you don’t mind if do, right?”
“Sure . . .” I watch her remove the cork and lift the bottle straight to her lips. “Bad day?”
There’s no rush as she takes a few long, lingering drinks of the white wine. All I get as an answer is a slight nod of her head as she chugs the alcohol.
“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this,” I giggle.
Making a face and wiping her lips with the pretty kitchen towel on the stove—the one not meant for actual use—she sighs. “Finn and Branch just had a standoff.”
“Oh, God,” I groan. “What happened?”
“I was at Finn’s, sitting on his pool table while he . . . never mind,” she blushes. “And the doorbell rang. So he . . . stops doing what he was doing and goes to answer it. It was Branch.”
She sets the bottle down and burps.
“Poppy. Really?”
“Don’t judge.”
“I withhold the right to bring this back up later,” I say, arching a brow. “But I’m too curious about what happened.”
“Right, so, Branch is at the door looking as suave as usual. Seriously, girl. Whew!”
I look at the ceiling and pray for patience.
“Anyway, he’s standing there, doing his best to ignore Finn’s hatefulness and Finn is just letting him know what a fuck-up he is.”
My head tips back farther.
“Finn’s going on and on, telling Branch to leave, that he doesn’t know anything about friendship while Branch is letting him have his say but telling him he’s going to prove that he’s a good guy and just made a mistake.”
“So I’m just a mistake now,” I say, feeling my spirits sink.
“See,” she says, climbing onto a stool beside me, “I don’t think that’s what he meant. I think he meant sort of messing with you under Finn’s nose was a mistake, but not that he was all that sorry for actually, you know, messing with you.”
I rest my head against her shoulder and she leans her head on mine. We sit in the quiet for a minute.
“I think you spilled wine on your shirt,” I say without bothering to look.
“I did, but just a drop.”
