Tempted

“I didn’t humiliate you,” I cry. “You humiliated yourself. And me in my workplace.”

“You have no business working there,” she shoots back.

“That’s not for you to decide, Harper. I’m an adult.”

“You haven’t proven that over the years.”

“That isn’t fair. I’ve been clean for two years.”

“You won’t be for long working in a place like that,” she says, pointing toward Silver. “You know it’s just a matter of time before all of the shit inside those walls has you itching for a high.”

I blow out a harsh breath. What she says is harsh, but it’s from years of habits. She’s watched this song and dance so many times, I can’t blame her for questioning it.

“I’m stronger than you think.”

“You are a child,” she bellows, and I flinch. “You never learn, and this time, Bailey, you’ve gone too far.” Her voice pitches. “You’ve pulled the rug out from under me, and you brought Cal into it. I’m never going to forgive you.” She says the last part quietly before turning and walking away.

Her anger I can handle, but the disappointment I saw reflected in her eyes was too much. Tears glide down my cheeks as my body begins to shake. All of the adrenaline rushes out of me, and the sorrow that I might’ve just lost my one stable relationship takes over.

“Bailey,” Drew calls from directly behind me. I shake my already lowered head, signaling I couldn’t talk if I wanted to.

Two muscular arms circle around my body, pulling me into Drew’s chest. I sag into his embrace, knowing I shouldn’t but not caring at the moment. I cry, and he lets me, periodically whispering soothing words and running his hand up and down my back.

After a while, I wipe away the last of the tears as embarrassment floods my system. Not only had the entire club witnessed our fight, but so had Drew. God, he must think I’m a mess.

“Drew, I—”

“Shh,” he whispers. “Let’s get you home, and we can talk about it tomorrow.”

I look up and over my shoulder at him for the first time. My eyes have to be swollen, and if my past history of welts after crying is still a thing, I’m likely sporting them.

I nod my thanks and allow him to make the decisions. Minutes later, my stuff is placed into my hand as I sit in the back of his Town Car once more.

“I’ve got to get back in there, but Stan will get you home. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

With that, he shuts the door, leaving me to wonder if I’ll still have a job come tomorrow.

13

Drew

I tap my pen as I consider what I’m about to do. After the scene last night, it was clear that Bailey can’t work at the club, and I’m an asshole for not recognizing that sooner. I’m not new to addiction, and I should know better than to employ addicts, no matter where they’re at in their recovery—or non-recovery in Carter’s case. Regardless of a damn property agreement.

That wasn’t even why I did it. When I read about what Bailey had been through online, I couldn’t say no. The call to help was too powerful.

Guilt over my own past sealed the deal.

So here we are . . . I have too many addicts in my employment, and I’m not sure what to do about it.

You can’t help everyone.

You couldn’t help her.

I can try to help Bailey.

Carter might be another issue, though. Having those two work together is asking for trouble. He needs rehab.

I groan, thinking about Carter. He’s not in any better shape to work here, but there is literally nothing else for him. Bailey, at least, has a family with means. Carter is alone. His mom bailed on him the minute she was able. It’s either here or the streets because any of the other options he has wouldn’t give a fuck if he were using on the clock. As long as the drinks are poured and the money is flowing, every other bar in the city lets that shit fly. In fact, some even provide it to their employees as a means to keep them going throughout the night. It’s sickening.

I can’t worry about him right now. Bailey’s my focus.

I called down to Carter moments ago and asked him to send her my way. Sam is coming to take her place. I know Bailey is going to be pissed, but I’ll make it worth it. I have to.

A knock on the door has me sitting up taller in my chair. I know who’s behind that door, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t eager to have her closer to me.

“Come in,” I call out, and the door opens to a flustered Bailey.

“Carter said you needed me. Everything okay? I’m super busy tonight,” she spews in one long run-on sentence.