Dean looks to Leighton. Raises a brow.
She shrugs don't look at me.
"You know I'm right here," I say.
"Just find it fucking interesting you'll wait around for her, but you bail on our plans." Dean slides off the counter.
"She has great tits," I say.
"If I thought that was it, I wouldn't fucking care," Dean says.
Leighton clears her throat. Motions to Ryan working on a pretty girl's wrist tattoo—not that he's noticing the way she's looking at him.
He folds his arms over his chest. "This is a fucking inside voice."
"We have different definitions of inside voice." She plops on her stool. Taps her Converse together. "Your shop. Alienate your customers if you want."
"Thanks, I will," he says.
"If Ryan lectures me, I will fucking ruin you," she says.
"He'll lecture me," Dean says.
"He'll lecture all of us." She shakes her head. "You can admit you have feelings."
He looks to me. "She your girlfriend now or some shit?"
"Yeah. And?" I stare back at him.
"Would have been nice to know that."
"Now you do."
"You gonna tell me why the fuck she was asking about Sabrina?"
"She was?" I bite my tongue. "When?"
Dean scoffs. "Guess you don't know everything about her."
Irritation seeps into my voice. "Never said I did."
Leighton looks to me. "At Ryan's party. She seemed really concerned."
Dean's voice gets low. "Why the fuck is there anything to say about Sabrina? Your sister is supposed to be in rehab."
"She checked out early." I try to make my voice even, but it refuses. I'm still pissed. I'm still worried she's going to die with a needle in her arm no matter what I do.
"When?" he asks.
"A few weeks ago."
He shakes his head. "And you didn't fucking tell me?"
"I didn't tell her either. Bree was there. At my place. High. Iris was with me."
"Were you gonna fucking tell me?" Dean asks.
"I can handle Bree on my own." I have for a long time.