Page 66 of Play the Last Track
“Katie—”
“You heard her. Time to go.” Flynn takes a step forward. It’s the wrong move.
In one go, Grant curses at him and then rushes him, aiming a sloppy punch at his jaw. Flynn reacts on instinct, blocking Grant’s sloppy attempt and hitting him back. Square in the jaw.
The crunch echoes through the bar. No one dares to take a breath. Grant hits the floor, knocked out.
“Oh, shit,” Maria curses.
“Atta, boy!” Doug cheers, holding his pint up as his friends all clap.
I just stare at Grant, groaning and moaning on the floor as he comes round. His eyes roll back, and he coughs, moving onto his side as he tries to get up. A finger gently drags my gaze away from my ex-boyfriend on the floor. Flynn studies my face.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.” I nod. “Are you?” I look down at his hand, hanging by his side. It’s already red, likely going to bruise all over his knuckles. “Oh my god, Flynn. Your hand.”
He shakes it out, flexing his fingers as I stare at it. “It’ll be fine.”
Behind us, Maria calls the police and asks for the ambulance as well. Grant will likely spend the night in a police cell or a hospital bed. As long as it’s not at my bar, I don’t care.
They take less than five minutes to arrive.
I watch from the front door as the medics bend over Grant, asking him questions and checking his jaw. Not broken, thank god.
The police talk to Justin and Maria, getting their story of what happened when he first showed up. Doug and his friends are told to go home, and the chefs help clean up the remaining glass and broken plates on the floor. Flynn stands behind me as I watch them roll Grant out on an ambulance stretcher. Flynn broke his nose.
Good.
As they pass us, Grant’s eyes open, tears filling them. “Katie. I’m sorry. I am. For everything. For cheating—” I don’t say anything, but I also don’t look away. God, what a sad excuse for a man. To think, I used to believe I would be happy with this guy. “For never treating you right. And … I’m sorry for the last time we saw each other. I shouldn’t have done it.” I close my eyes and plead silently with Grant. Please, please don’t say it. Please don’t say it.
“I never meant to hit you. I’m sorry.”
I feel Flynn’s arm around my waist tighten, and his chest freeze. I let out the breath I’d been holding since I walked into the bar tonight to deal with Grant and the mess he made. Goddammit. He fucking said it.
“He what?” Flynn says in my ear. I can only shake my head, keeping my eyes closed and hoping that maybe Flynn will just leave it alone. Of course, he won’t. He’s not the kind of guy to leave it alone. He never was, and he never will be. Flynn spins me around to face him, taking my face in his hands. “He hit you?”
Chapter Eighteen
Katie
“Iwon’tgo.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I can. I’ll just call Coach and tell him to shove it.”
“Flynn, I am fine. I have been fine for months.” I rub my temples as I sit cross-legged in the middle of his bed. He paces back and forth at the foot, his overnight bag half packed between us. “If you don’t finish packing, you’ll be late and miss your flight.”
“Fuck it. I’m not going.” He pulls out his phone and starts typing furiously. I sigh and get off the bed, stopping in front of him and putting my hand over the screen.
“Who are you texting?” I ask.
“Scott. I’m telling him that I won’t be coming.”
I take the phone from his hands, gently placing it on the bed beside his bag. “You are going. I am fine.” I lift his hands in mine and inspect the bruising that has well and truly formed on his knuckles. I kiss the injured hand and then look up at him through my lashes.
He’s been overprotective since we came home from the bar a few nights ago. At first, we argued about me not wanting to formally report him. Grant is a lot of things. He’s selfish, a drunk, a cheater. But, he’s not a hitter. The slap was a one-off. We’d been circlingthe drain for a long time, and if he were going to resort to physical violence to get me to stay, he would’ve done it long before he did.
