Page 56 of When We Were Us
He makes a face at me. “You made her fuckin’ cry?” The look of incredulity on his face has me rolling my eyes.
“I didn’t mean to.” I scowl over at him. “We were talking about what she needs to fix in order to sell the house, and I made a comment about her grandparents. The next thing I know, she’s crying.”
“What did you do?”
“What could I do? I grabbed her and held onto her while she cried. You know I can’t handle it when women cry.”
“How did she react?”
I shake my head and glance in the direction of her table. “I don’t know. She didn’t pull away. At least, not at first.” I pause and rub my forehead. “I can’t get a read on her. It’s exhausting.”
“Have you told her how you feel? What about at the game the other night?”
Fucking feelings.
“What about it?”
“She literally had your name and number on her back.”
Like I can forget. But it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a shirt.
Right?
I clench my jaw, my patience waning quickly. “This conversation is pointless, Hudson.”
“Why?”
My hands clench into fists on the bar top as I turn and pin him with my stare. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me, Hudson,fuck. What don’t you get? If I show any kind of concern for her, she kicks me out. If I ask anything even remotely personal, she shuts me down,” I grit out.
“So, I will do what I can to help her get that house ready to sell, and when it does, she’s gone. She told me as much the other day. She’ll go back to California and live her life. She isn’tmine.”
He shakes his head, raising his hands in surrender. “All right. I’ll quit asking.”
“I’ll see you later, man.” I cannot stay in this bar one more second. I throw a twenty down on the counter and stand.
And that’s when I hear it.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t little Wrenley Hardcastle. Want to dance, pretty girl?”
A quick glance in her direction confirms what I already know. Wren is being led onto the dance floor by Archie Sandburg, the biggest manwhore in town. He’s dressed in skintight Wranglers, a ten-gallon cowboy hat, and douchey snakeskin boots. The guy was a dick in high school and he’s a dick now.
I stiffen and my hands clench into fists at my sides. The words I’d just said to Hudson flash through my mind.
She isn’t mine.
But seeing her with that prick’s hands on her? She sure as hell feels like mine.
Hudson must see my entire body go rigid, because he immediately clamps a hand on my shoulder. “Dude, chill the hell out.” His voice is low as he glances their way.
I try to shrug him off, but he doesn’t remove his hand, keeping me in place.
He glowers at me and stands up, blocking my path to them. “You really think that ripping into ArchiefuckingSandburg for dancing with a woman you just said isn’t evenyoursis the best way to go about this?”
A muscle in my jaw pops as I watch them, but I know Hudson is right. Wren is mid-laugh at something Archie says. It's not a flirty laugh, maybe even a bit forced. And now that I get a good look, she’s keeping their bodies firmly three or four inches apart. His hand is on her waist, but it isn't possessive, and he seems to be keeping his hands to himself. For now. But if Wren is going to laugh with someone, or dance with someone, I want it to be me.
We’re now standing next to the bar, and the bartender asks if we’d like another round, but I’ve had enough.
“What the hell is wrong with you, man?” He shoots a look over his shoulder at Wren and Douche Boots.
