Page 28 of Bitter Truth
Reaching into my purse, I pull out a bottle and offer it to him. He grins. If there’s one sure way to make a friend out of Dylan Walker, it’s buying him a drink. Buying him a whole bottle? That’s even better.
“I’ve been wanting to thank you,” he says as he turns toward the cabinet, pulling out a clean glass. “I don’t know what you said to get Jake to give me a chance, but whatever it was, I appreciate it.”
I take a seat. He breaks the seal on the whiskey I brought, but before he has a chance to pour me a drink, I’ve removed a second fifth from my purse. Removing the cap, I drink straight from the bottle. His eyebrows rise with something like concern as he settles into the chair across from me.
“Is something wrong?” he asks.
I shrug and take another sip, not wanting to admit thateverythingis.
“You going to be okay to drive if you drink that?”
“I’ll wait it off in the car if I’m not.”
“You’ll do no such thing. You know you’re always welcome here, right?”
When I don’t respond, he frowns down at his glass, then reluctantly pushes it to the side. It’s not anything I ever expected to see.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”
“What makes you think anything is?”
“Because you’re acting odder than a purple cat on a date with an orange mouse.” He clears his throat. “Is it Jake?”
I tip my head back, filling my mouth with another glug from my bottle. Apparently, that’s answer enough.
“Does he know you’re here?”
“No.”
“You want to keep this visit between you and me?”
“You’d do that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t want you risking that second chance he’s giving you.”
Dylan rubs a hand over his face. “I wouldn’t want that, either. But you’re my best friends’ little girl. And the reason my boy gave me that chance in the first place. So whatever you need…”
I shake my head. Swallow hard. Blink rapidly to contain the tears filling my eyes.
“Aw, sweetheart.”
Dylan gets up and rounds the table. His knees crack as he crouches by my side, wrapping an arm awkwardly around my shoulders.
It’s strange, to think that this man trying to comfort me right now is the same one who left the marks that still scar Jake’s back. I know I shouldn’t trust him. And yet, at the same time, I long to turn toward him and bury my head in his shoulder.
But I can’t.
Instead, I wipe my eyes dry and draw a deep breath. Force a small smile.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He looks like he doesn’t believe me, but he stands with a muffled groan and returns to his seat, where he sits, studying me with an anguished expression.
