Page 128 of Beyond the Lines
Rook ignores him. “Come on, Dec, who is she? She was hot. Long dark curly hair. Great ass. Wearing this sweater with an Eiffel Tower on it.”
The bottle nearly slips from my hand. The sweater Rook’s describing is one Lea bought in Paris last summer during her gap semester. She wears it all the time around her dorm. And without even looking at him, I can feel Mike’s eyes boring into me.
“Eiffel Tower, huh?” Mike says, his voice eerily quiet. “Describe the girl.”
“Real artsy looking,” Rook continues. “Small. Cute. Kind of exotic.”
“Greek,” Mike says flatly. “Her mother’s family is Greek.”
The entire table goes silent. Rook’s face shifts from confusionto the slow dawn of realization. The atmosphere is suddenly thick enough to cut with a knife. Maine and Linc exchange alarmed glances.
“Wait, you know her?” Rook asks.
“Rook,” Linc says quietly. “That’s Mike’s sister.”
Rook’s eyes widen. “Oh shit. I didn’t?—”
Mike’s chair scrapes against the floor as he stands abruptly, his beer forgotten. His gaze never leaves my face, his brown eyes burning with fury and betrayal. I don’t even try to mouth an excuse, because I know what’s coming.
“You’re fucking dead,” he says, his voice so low I barely hear it.
Then his fist connects with my jaw.
The pain explodes across my face, accompanied by shocked shouts from our teammates. I stumble backward, crashing into someone else’s table. Glasses shatter. A woman screams.
“What the hell, man?” Maine yells at Mike.
Mike lunges for me again, but Linc and Maine grab his arms, holding him back. As I get my footing, blood trickles from the corner of my mouth. I wipe it away, tasting copper.
“You knew she was off-limits!” Mike roars, struggling against their grip. “I specifically told you to stay away from her!”
“Mike, let’s talk about this,” I start, now that he’s got his shot in, but he cuts me off with a laugh that sounds more like a snarl.
“Talk? What’s there to talk about? You’ve been sneaking around with my sister behind my back!”
Before I can respond to the accusation, the bartender slams a baseball bat on the bar and shouts loud enough to silence the room. “Out,” he commands.
Linc and Maine maneuver Mike toward the exit, still restraining him. Rook trails behind, looking like he wants to crawl under a rock. I follow at a distance, my jaw throbbing.
“I had no idea,” Rook whispers as we reach the door. “I swear, I?—”
“Shut up, Rookie,” I mutter. “Just… shut up.”
Outside, the cool night air does nothing to calm the fire in Mike’s eyes. This confrontation has been brewing for weeks, and now that it’s here, I realize I’m not sorry about being with Lea.
As we stumble into the street outside the bar, my jaw throbs where Mike’s fist connected, but I’ve taken harder hits on the ice. Far worse is the ache in my chest, knowing that my best friend—a guy who was already struggling—is now furious with me.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to take a backward step.
I love Lea, and I’ll fight for her if I need to.
Without actually, you know, fighting.
The second the bouncer shuts the door behind us, Mike tries to shrug off Linc and Maine. “Round two, Dec,” Mike says.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Linc yanks Mike back, although it’s a struggle that he only wins with help from Maine. “Let’s all take a breath here.”
Mike glares at him. “Let go of me!”
