Maybe for one split second I want to pretend I got everything I ever wanted, even if it’s far from the truth.
“What the hell was that?” Fia whispers, and I’m pulled back into reality. I’m not sure if she is mortified or impressed by her big sister.
“Those guys had no good intentions,” he says stiffly, and Fia’s eyes drop to his arm still around me. He promptly drops it, coming to stand next to me instead. A pang of hurt reaches up and grips me.
Jesse snatches a dart, steps up, and throws it.
Bullseye.
“Damn, are you both professionals?” Fia laughs, and I grab Jesse’s drink from his grip before he can object, throwing back the remaining whiskey.
Jesse looks me up and down, a punishing look on his face.
“Shit, I have to pee,” Fia blurts out, leaving her drink on the high-top.
“I’ll come—”
“I’ll be fine, it’s right there.” She’s gone before I can argue.
The second the door swings shut behind her, Jesse leans in toward me—elbows on the table, head tilting to meet my gaze.
“Didn’t peg you as a cougar,” Jesse says casually.
“And I didn’t take you as the jealous type—”
“They were getting a bit handsy.” He cuts me off as a quick flicker passes his green eyes. Then he’s back to cool and collected.
“I can handle myself, thank you very much. I’ve been with plenty…” This time, I cut myself off.
Jesse smiles softly at me.
“Teaching your little sister how to swindle men out of dart boards, that’s a new low.”
I snort, throwing my head back. “That was hardly it. Fia needs to toughen up—I’m teaching her not to let the world screw her over. How to get what she wants. Fair and square.”
Jesse’s eyes drop to my mouth. His voice lowers when he asks, “You really don’t trust people, do you?”
My stomach steels.What is his problem?!Intervening where he has no right and asking questions like he’s my therapist.
“I trust people,” I lie straight through my teeth.
“But you don’t trust me, princess.”
The nickname slices me open, and suddenly, I’m not here.
I’m eighteen, messy hair and cheap sandals, salt air licking my skin. Jesse’s arms are not full of ink, and I can feel the worn cotton of his heavy metal band T-shirt.
Back when I trusted him with the world.
Maybe a tiny sliver of me still does, but I silence that part. It’s not safe.
“You gave me a lot of reasons not to.” I blink, looking away. The bar blurs and sharpens again. Then his hand is under the high-top, fingers brushing against mine.
I don’t pull away when he touches my hand, so lightly, but it feels like fire on my skin.
“I want to fix that.”
I can’t look at him, I can’t talk about this right now.
