Page 34 of Don't Let Me Fall (Don't Let Me 1)

“And every other girl you’ve been with,” I remind him.

“Stay away from her, all right?” he orders.

I laugh, biting back my frustration no matter how satisfying it is seeing me getting under his skin. “And why should I?”

“Because she’s a good girl who wants a relationship and shit, and since you haven’t had a real one since high school, you’re not exactly her type. She deserves some respect.”

“And you think cheating on her shows respect?” I challenge. “Tell me…does she know?”

“It’s between me and her.”

Theo’s hand slams against the bar, cutting us off. “All right, guys. Enough. I’m here to get buzzed, not listen to pointless drama when we both know it doesn’t matter. Colt wouldn’t stab you in the back, and Ash is head over heels for you. End of story.” He turns to Logan and narrows his gaze. “But listen carefully. You don’t need to worry, but you do need to start treating her better. Ash is one of the nicest girls on campus, and despite you and your bigass head, you are replaceable to her. She could have any guy she wants, including Colt, and I don’t care what the bro code says. If you screw up, she’s free game. Me. Graves. Depp. Colt,” he adds. “She can have anyone she picks. And it’ll be on you. Now, let’s order another round and end this pissing contest.” He taps his knuckles on the dark, polished bar top and waves the bartender over, ordering another round for everyone.

We shoot the shit for another thirty minutes or so, reminiscing about old times and upcoming games, when one of the waitresses starts arguing with a customer. The guy’s back is to me, but he’s big and is towering over a pretty blonde who looks like she’s seconds from crying.

“Shit,” Theo mutters when he sees what’s going on.

“What’s the problem?” I ask. The tall guy shifts slightly, and I recognize him.

Shorty.

One of my roommates who plays on the hockey team with Theo and Logan.

Watching the shitshow with wary eyes, Theo mutters, “Shorty and his ex are going at it again.”

“She caught Shorty cheating on her, so she ended things,” Logan explains to me, his gaze still glued to the drama unfolding.

“Which is why we don’t cheat,” Theo reminds Logan, adding, “But Shorty’s a possessive motherfucker and doesn’t want to let her go.”

Shorty grabs his ex’s arm and tugs her closer to him like she’s nothing but a rag doll, and she winces in pain.

“Shit,” Theo mutters under his breath and sets his drink down, ready to get up.

“Stay here,” I growl. “I’ll be right back.”

“Colt––”

“I’ll be fine.” Pushing myself up, I walk toward them and call out, “Hey, Shorty. Is there a problem?”

Shorty lets the girl go and rubs his hand against his jeans as if he’s been caught red-handed.

Meanwhile, the girl’s eyes widen in surprise, and she wipes at her tear-stained cheeks. “There’s no problem––”

“Hey, man.” Shorty slaps his big sausage hand against mine, cutting the waitress off. We haven’t talked much. But I’ve seen him around the house. He’s even come to the gym with Theo and me a time or two. But he’s more of the strong, silent type, and right now isn’t any different.

“How you been?” I ask.

His attention shifts to the waitress, and his jaw tightens. “Kinda busy right now.”

“I can see. Thought you might wanna cool down and get a drink with the guys and me.” I tilt my head toward the bar where Logan and Theo are watching. Waiting. And despite the shit going on with Logan and me, I know they’ll both have my back if I need it.

I wait for Shorty to take the bait, but he only shakes his head. “Maybe later. Unfortunately, you’re kind of interrupting me and my girl here.”

“I’m not your girl,” she seethes, hugging the black tray to her chest while looking…scared. It only pisses me off more.

Stepping closer, I place myself between them and tilt my head up. The guy has at least fifty extra pounds on me and a few inches too. But if anything, it's to my advantage. Because he’s underestimating me. What I can do. How I was raised. He thinks he can get away with pushing a girl around, but he doesn’t know me, and he doesn’t know I’m this close to slamming my glass against his skull if he dares to touch her again.

“She’s right, you know,” I tell him. “She’s not your girl. And she doesn’t want your hands on her. I suggest you give her some space, and if, for some reason, she changes her mind and decides you’re worth her time, she’ll reach out. All right, man?”

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