“You can’t just drive up there and beat him up!”
“Why not?”
“Well,” Tria said as she tilted her head to the side, “you don’t own a car for starters.”
Ok, I had to give her that point. I ran my hand through my hair and huffed out a breath. I let her take hold of my arm again and lead me back to the couch.
“I can take care of it,” Tria said.
“How exactly are you going to do that—blunt object or firearm?”
“Keith doesn’t matter.” She shook her head and looked down at her hands in her lap. “This is about Nikki. I have to go back. I need to be there for her.”
“No, you don’t,” I said. I placed my glass on the coffee table and sat on the edge of the couch cushion. I turned myself sideways to face her. “Don’t go back.”
“I can’t just ignore what’s going on with her,” she told me. “Nikki is going to go through with this, and she wants me there.”
It all sounded like a bunch of bullshit to me.
“It’s just that douchebag’s way to get you back there so he can keep you from returning.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” she agreed. “I’m sure he knows I would do anything for Nikki. Still, it’s not like he can keep me from leaving.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. She didn’t believe a word she was saying, and it showed.
“I have to go,” she whispered. “Nikki risked everything for me. I owe her.”
I stood up.
“I’m going with you.” I felt myself stand just a little taller, the decision solidifying my resolve. There was no way I was going to have her go halfway across the country on her own. There was no way I was going to let her be that far away from me with that asshole in the vicinity.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tria muttered as she shook her head.
“Don’t fucking say that!” I exploded. “I fucking hate it when you say that! I’m going with you!”
“You most certainly are not!” she yelled right back at me. She stood up and placed her fists on her hips. “I’m not going to go there to help Nikki just to end up having to play interference between you and Keith the whole time!”
“I won’t start anything,” I promised. I might not start anything, but I’d end it, and “starting” was kind of a subjective thing. If he happened to look at me wrong, well, that would be like him starting something.
“My ass,” Tria replied. She grabbed both empty glasses and headed into the kitchen.
I followed her and watched her carefully wash each of the glasses before she grabbed a towel to dry them inside and out. She seemed to be taking extra care to get every single drop of water off of them before putting them in the cabinet. When she turned to me and glared with her arms crossed, her breath came out in a huff that moved her hair around.
“I’m going,” I repeated.
“No.”
“Not up for debate,” I told her. I crossed my arms over my chest to show her I could be just as damn stubborn as she was. “I swear, I’ll be something that vaguely resembles a gentleman up until he starts acting like a douchebag.”
&
nbsp; I hoped and prayed that he would act up because even the smallest excuse would allow me to beat the ever-loving shit out of him. That thought put a genuine smile on my face.
“I can already see you plotting inside that head of yours,” she told me. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not? Give me one decent reason that isn’t outweighed by the dozen I can come up with that will tell you not to go by yourself.”
“Liam!” Tria threw her hands up in the air and turned around to walk back into the living room. She stopped at the juncture between the two rooms and leaned against the wall there with her arms still crossed. “What am I supposed to say? My roommate followed me across the country to pay his respects to someone he never met?”