Page 81 of One Night Only
I watch, stunned, as Logan’s fist collides with Charlie’s jaw with such force, the crack of his teeth can be heard over the song playing through the bar.
“Fuck me.” Robbie sighs.
Happy steps up to Charlie’s buddies, pushes up the sleeves of his hoodie and grinning in that menacing way that’s just so Happy. He flips his cap backwards and looks from each guy to the next. “So, who’s next, fellas?”
“There ain’t no fightin’ in my bar!”
The music comes to a sudden stop and the crowd parts, making way for a crooked old man hobbling out from behindthe bar with a walking cane, a baseball bat clamped under his arm. The bar owner, I presume.
The old man makes his way over, looking from Charlie still crouched over, crying over his jaw, to Logan standing in front of me like my own personal bodyguard.
“You need ice for that?” The man juts his whiskered chin, indicating the hand Logan is currently nursing.
Logan shakes his head, shrugging a shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
“Maybe y’all should get the hell outta here.” The old man arches a bushy brow.
“Yes, sir.” Logan nods.
We make quick work of collecting our shit from the table, shoving everything into our pockets and hightailing it out of there before someone calls the cops, or worse, starts filming.
The wind is cool as we make it out onto the street, but thankfully it’s relatively quiet, a few people smoking, a couple people waiting on the curb for a cab. We turn left and break out into a slow jog as we continue up the sidewalk and around the corner.
“Did you see that asshole’s face!” Happy roars with laughter. “Dude went down like a sack of potatoes. I swear he was fucking crying. Tears and everything!”
Logan powers off ahead with Happy running after him, but Robbie and I stay back a little, Robbie glancing over his shoulder every so often, checking that no one’s following us.
“What the hell was that about?” he asks after a few moments. “You were about to pound that guy.”
“Fuck yeah, I was.” I nod once, jaw tight as I think about the smarmy look in that fucker’s eye when he mentioned my sister.
“That’s not like you, Tex. Aside from sparring in the gym and fighting on the ice, have you ever actually punched anyone?”
“No,” is all I say.
I can feel him watching me, see him from my periphery, and I glance at him. “What?”
“You haven’t been yourself all week,” he says. “What’s up?”
I consider not saying anything. Keeping shit to myself. But Robbie’s right. I haven’t been myself all week. And I know exactly what’s wrong, I just don’t know how to deal with it. So, over the course of the five-minute walk back to our hotel, I tell him everything. The watered-down version, of course, because Momma raised a gentleman after all.
Logan and Happy continue inside the lobby, but I stop Robbie when we get to the hotel, looking down at him hoping that, somehow, he has all the answers.
“I don’t know what to do, man.” I remove my hat, raking my fingers through my hair. “I can’t sleep. I can’t focus. All I keep thinking about is her. I want her more than I want air.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me.”
Robbie’s eyes flit between mine as an annoying smirk slowly starts to claim his mouth, a smirk he doesn’t even try to hide.
My brows knit together in annoyance. “What is possibly funny right now?”
“Tex,” he says with a laugh, reaching out and gripping my shoulders to steady me with a serious look. “I’m not gonna hold your hand when I tell you this, but son, you’re in love.”
I gape at him like he’s just grown another head.
He smirks like a smug asshole.
I scoff. “You think I don’t know that!”
Robbie balks, his eyes widening.
