“I’m Brock.” He offers his hand. “And you are?”
I return his handshake. “Allie.”
“Hi there, Allie.”
He’s still smiling at me when Liv sidles up and offers the crisp pint of beer. She glances at me and then spies Brock, a gleam in her eyes. She finishes with a totally fake serious look. “I should not have had those two glasses of water before we came. I’ll be right back.”
I chuckle at her. Such lies she tells.
Even Brock grins at Liv as she scurries off. When she fades into the crowd, he asks me, “So, Allie, what do you do?”
I move toward the small table in front of me and place my beer on top. Talking to Brock will give me time to wait for Gabe to take a break, and then I can introduce myself and ask what I need to—or at least that’s my plan. “I’m a real estate agent,” I say to Brock as he settles in close beside me. “How about you?”
“Corporate lawyer.” He gives a playful wink. “Totally boring stuff and not worth talking about.”
I laugh, not blind to his charming personality. He’s got the looks too, seemingl
y cut right out of a GQ advertisement. I begin listening to him as he’s easily talking, and I’m answering his questions whenever he asks. I smile a lot, and I’m noticing how he likes to touch my arm when I laugh at something he says. He seems like a nice guy, exactly someone I would’ve dated before. A pang hits my chest hard, while the subject switches to sports. As cute as Brock is, he’s not the guy I want to flirt with. Which I guess is kinda surprising, because the guy I want can’t be more wrong for me.
Isn’t this the lesson my mother taught me: don’t date that guy, the one every girl knows will hurt you in the end. Micah has hurt me more than once, and yet it feels entirely wrong to give up on him. It’s like we’re magnets, and I’m drawn to him so intensely that I can’t turn away.
Brock obviously notes my mood change, stroking my arm. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Sorry.” I smile, trying to enjoy the moment and get to know a guy who doesn’t seem to carry a whole suitcase of baggage. But somehow this guy cannot possibly compete with Micah. Logically, I know I shouldn’t want Micah. But he stirs something inside me, a need for him that no other man ever has before. I realize that I can’t refuse his grip on me, because, from day one, it’s never been a choice. It’s an irrefutable fact.
I blink out of my thoughts, hearing the loud music again, when Liv suddenly catches my eye. She’s standing a few feet away, near the washrooms, yelling something at me I can’t hear over the music.
But then I do understand, because I see Micah storming by Liv and shoving himself into the small space between Brock and me.
“Do not touch her again,” Micah slurs, lurching into Brock’s face.
“Whoa, buddy.” Brock’s forced to take a step back, raising his hands in surrender. “Take it easy.”
Everything seems to be moving in slow motion, when I hear someone shout, “Shit,” behind me. I glance over my shoulder, just as the bartender jumps over the bar, charging toward us, and shoving his way in between Micah and Brock. He grins over Micah’s shoulder at me. “Allie, I presume?”
I nod. “Gabe?”
He mirrors my nod, then gently pushes on Micah’s chest, moving me out of the way. “You’ll regret this tomorrow. Let’s go.”
“Get your fucking hands off me, Gabe.” Micah’s shaking off his friend, practically snarling at Brock. “He touched her. No one touches her.”
Why not? screams in my mind.
You pushed me away! my heart roars.
Gabe grabs Micah’s arms, pushing harder now, and the vein protruding from his forehead tells me Gabe’s struggling to keep Micah back. For whatever reason, that snaps me into focus. Micah’s not some random guy in a bar fight. He’d end up on TMZ, and if he hit Brock, this would end badly, with a lawsuit.
Emotions are spiraling through me when I place my hand on Micah’s back, smelling the whisky reeking from him, and feeling him quivering with an intensity I hadn’t before experienced. All of his coiled power is dangerously unleashed. “Micah,” I say, softly.
He turns to me and I gasp at the flatness in his eyes. I don’t know this guy. He’s never been so out of control or so reckless. He’s never looked so dead inside or so lost. “You need to go,” I tell him gently, bringing him back to reason.
His eyes glaze over, and I realize he’s not even seeing me. His demons aren’t showing themselves. They’ve overpowered him. My heart is reaching for his, no matter that he’s the reason it’s hurting. “We’re leaving. Right now.” I grab the hem of his T-shirt, tugging him forward. I’m surprised that he doesn’t fight me, following easily. But that tells me a lot. It shows me that even when he’s lost, I can bring him back to me.
The moment we reach outside, and the cooler air brushes across my heated face, I notice the Bentley squealing to a stop in front of us. Levi jumps out of the car, takes one look at Micah, and snorts, “In fine form tonight, I see.”
Micah stumbles, weaving from side to side. “Fucking kill him…”
I’m reeling as Gabe and Levi deposit Micah into the backseat of the Bentley. My heart is clenching as I take one last look at him, slumped over. God, he looks so broken that it breaks me too. Seeing him now, like this, and his jealousy, I know there’s something deeper he’s burying inside of him.