“Another pitcher too,” Benji adds, looking at me, then Rhys. “We’re gonna need it.”
Fucker might be right.
The waitress nods and walks off, and I’m left sitting between Lawful Good and Mister Sunshine, both of them tangled in her orbit like I am.
Delilah’s in a cell. And I’m here, eating goddamn onion rings with her cock entourage.
None of this is normal. None of this is okay.
But I sit there anyway, breathing through it. Pretending like the taste of betrayal doesn’t hit harder than the beer ever could.
“What’s the plan?” It comes out gruff, but it’s not a real question. It’s a challenge. A demand. Because this isn’t about us. Fuck that noise. There is no us. There’s her, and she’s in a goddamn holding cell, and I’m sitting here with Captain Kindness and Dr. Boundaries trying to talk logistics like we’re a fucking PTA board.
Not that she needs an us anyway. I could give her everything.
No. No the fuck I can’t.
I don’t do soft. I don’t do safe. Not like Benji. He probably tucks her in and kisses her temple and makes her pancakes.
I don’t do wise, either. Or patient. Rhys does that shit. Understanding her, reading her like she’s an academic case file.
All I know how to do is burn.
“I can post bail,” Benji says. “But I gotta be at work first thing in the morning.”
Responsible, reliable. Like his dick’s just another tool on a keychain.
“I’ll post the bail,” I say. “You already paid my tab. I’m not adding to it.”
Benji nods, soft and sincere. “Thanks, man.”
He means it. Fucking Boy Scout.
“It’s all about Chad. That’s on me,” I add, as if it matters. Everyone here already knows I’m the fuck-up in this equation. “I don’t have a client in the morning. I’ll pick her up. I’ll wait in the lobby the second they open.”
I’ll sit in that sterile fucking hallway like a goddamn dog waiting for his girl to come home.
Rhys drains his beer, the third wheel in a slow-motion rom com crash. “There are more charges,” he says, flat. “It’s only because I have access to her file that I know. But it’s going to get more complicated before the final hearing. They’re calling in her ex and his girlfriend as witnesses. The ones with the restraining orders.”
I drain my beer too while that settles like concrete in my gut. “Fuck Hank,” I say. Because seriously. Fuck him. “I’ll knock his fucking teeth in if he so much as breathes near her.”
“No,” Rhys says, and it’s that therapist tone that makes me want to wrap my hands around his throat. “That’s not how we move forward.”
I laugh. Loud and mean. “You think there’s a forward? You think she’s coming out of this untouched?”
Benji’s trying to be Switzerland over there, sipping his beer like it might give him neutrality. “If they’re witnesses, what are the new charges?”
Rhys meets his eyes. Holds for a second then drops the next grenade with surgical precision. “A woman related to you is filing harassment. Delilah left her a… gift.”
Benji’s face shifts. “Fucking Margo?” His voice goes sharp. “I’ll talk to her. She won’t go to court. She’ll drop it.”
“It’s not best if you threaten her,” Rhys warns.
“I said talk,” Benji snaps. “I only slept with her once. It’s not some bitter ex thing.”
“You don’t know women,” I say, finishing the last of the beer like it can cauterize the hole in my chest. “Delilah’s gift was a statement. And if Margo’s smart, she’ll take the hint and fuck off.”
Rhys looks at me like I’m the biggest threat at the table. He’s not wrong. Because the truth is, I don’t care if I have to go back behind bars to protect her.
