Page 80 of A Little Jaded
Perfect.
The ten-minute drivefeels like twice as long when I finally arrive at SeaBird. It’s crowded, so I drive around back, looking for a spot and Griffin’s car since I have no doubt he let Finley borrow it. Okay, let her borrow it is probably a stretch. My sister has had my best friend wrapped around her finger since they were kids. She probably stole it.Brat.
Pulling into an empty spot, I leave my jacket in the back, too amped up on adrenaline to feel the drop in temperature. There’s a storm coming. I can feel it.
The quiet creak of metal sounds from my left, where I find Griffin and Reeves climbing out of Reeves’ car.
“Mav’s already inside,” Griffin calls. “He’s been keeping an eye on them since they told him they were having a girls' night.”
Sneaky bastard.
Relief swells through me, and I nod. “Glad someone could be here.”
“Yeah, guess there are pros and cons to the guy having a heart transplant and retiring from the team,” Reeves jokes.
With the guys flanking my sides, we nod at the bouncer, then scan the open bar for the girls and, even though I don’t want to admit it, Drake. When I don’t see him, my muscles relax, and I continue searching for my little sister, Lia, Dylan, and Raine.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Maverick
They’re on the dance floor. Come to the south side. I have a booth where we can watch the girls without them noticing.
I look up from my cell and survey the dance floor. Sure enough, there they are. Dylan. Finley. Ophelia. And Raine. They’re dancing to the song blasting from the speakers. Raine’s shouting the lyrics along with the rest of the girls, each of them belting out the words about a scorned woman or some shit. She looks happy, though. Carefree. The constant divot between her brows is softer than usual, and when she holds her stomach and bends over laughing at whatever Finley said, I can’t help but feel…lighter, maybe. My mouth lifts, and my chest swells. The girl’s fuckin’ beautiful. I’ve always known it, but this? This is something else. I like this side of her. And honestly, I’m almost jealous I’m not the one who made her this way. Who helped her let go and let loose. It would probably help if I talked to her more. If I opened up. If I let her open up.
“Dylan’s wasted,” Reeves notes, but there’s amusement in his voice as he takes a step toward the dance floor. “Come on.”
I lift my arm to stop him. “Wait.”
Hesitating, Reeves looks over his shoulder at me. “What?”
“They don’t know we’re here yet.”
He quirks a brow. “Okay?”
“They wanted a girls’ night,” I remind him. “Let’s give them one. For now.”
“All right,” Griffin agrees. “But I need a drink if I’m gonna survive their shitty singing.” He slaps me on the shoulder, steps around me, and heads for the bar as I fill Reeves in on Maverick’s text. Afterward, he follows me to the booth.Mav’s right. From here, I can still keep the girls in our line of sight without raining on their parade.
A few minutes later, Griffin brings three beers to the table, setting one in front of each of us. They spend the next thirty minutes filling Mav and me in on the game. It kind of sucks. Growing up with him and his brother on the ice, only to have both of them ripped away in different ways. I guess it’s how life is, though. Unpredictable. Unexpected. We’re all just making shit up as we go. If you don’t learn how to pivot, you’re fucked.
When Dylan stumbles a bit on the dance floor a little while later, I glance at Reeves, curious as to what he’s gonna do. The girl’s clumsy when she’s sober. Add some alcohol, and she’s pretty much a walking disaster.
When we were little, we were playing hockey together, and I got pissed, so I hit the puck as hard as I could. It kicked up into the air and knocked Dylan in the head. She crumpled like a piece of paper. I still remember it. Seeing her fall. How the life left her eyes before they rolled back in her head. The beeping machines. The heavy silence in the hospital room.
Fuck, if I close my eyes, I can still see it. Stillfeelit. The weight of that moment and the way I irrevocably changed a little girl’s life all because I couldn’t control my temper.
For years, I carried the burden. The knowledge she’ll never be the same person. The guilt over the fact it was me who took it from her. Her future. It threatened to swallow me whole until I was convinced Dylan was nothing but a porcelain doll who could break at any second. And if she did, it would only confirm it was all my fault. My problem. My fuck up.
Then Dylan met Reeves. And even though I wanted him to stay as far away from her as possible, convinced he’d only shatter her further, he refused to play by my rules, giving metwo middle fingers as he pursued my little sister’s best friend without a single apology for overstepping his bounds.
But here’s the strange part. The part I still don’t fully understand. As I watch Dylan teeter on the dance floor like an uncoordinated giraffe, the urge to catch her is gone. Because it isn’t my job anymore. It’s Reeves’. My eyes fall to the brunette bombshell beside her. Red lips. Smokey eyes. Long-sleeved crop top falling off one shoulder, giving me a glimpse of her creamy skin and low-slung jeans. The girl’s nothing short of perfect.
And apparently, I’m not the only one who notices.
Like a swarm, guys start approaching, but none of them have a chance to get close because Finley bites their heads off and drags her friends to a different spot on the dance floor. Griffin chuckles as he watches her go head-to-head with a particularly massive dude I’ve never seen until now. When he reaches for Finley’s hips, Griffin is on his feet, and so am I. The guys join us as we stride toward them, our drinks forgotten.
Once we’re within earshot, Reeves calls, “Hey, Pickles.”