Victor (Chicago Blaze 3)

“Where’s this guy taking you?” I ask, trying to at least appear calm and collected.

“He didn’t say.”

“He didn’t say?” I give her an incredulous look. “What kind of a douchebag doesn’t say where he’s taking a girl?”

“He said drinks and dinner. We’re meeting up at a bar on the North Side.”

“What a douche.” I shake my head, disgusted. “He’s too pussy to pick you up and meet your dad?”

Lindy laughs. “It’s not meeting my dad time already, is it? I don’t know; I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what before?”

There’s a beat of silence before she says, “Dated.”

“You’ve never had a serious relationship before?” I look over and see that Lindy’s face is the same pink shade of cotton candy.

“I’ve never even had…a date before,” she says softly. “So I said yes to Ryan because beggars can’t be choosers, you know?” She smiles, trying to lighten the tense conversation with some humor.

“Oh, Lindy.” I sigh, my anger fading. “You are not a beggar. Please don’t say that.”

“I just mean…no one’s ever beaten down my door? I’ve always told myself I didn’t care, and that I didn’t want or need a relationship, but being noticed by someone…it was nice.”

We’re getting closer to Lindy’s house, and I slow down, not wanting our conversation to end.

“Look, I get that,” I say. “But there’s no way guys have never noticed you, Lindy. You’re amazing. I just don’t want you getting taken advantage of.”

“I won’t.”

I’m about to crush my steering wheel from gripping it so hard. I’ve seen how men work. Hell, I am one. And Lindy’s way more than a piece of ass.

“Be careful,” I say as my GPS announces our arrival at her house. “When you text Ari, text me, too. Only go to public places with him. Do not go back to his place.”

She smiles as I park in front of her simple white bungalow. “Thanks for caring. I really do appreciate it.”

“Promise me you won’t go back to his place.”

“I promise.”

“Let Ryan know I’ll slapshot his balls into next week if he tries anything.”

Lindy reaches for the passenger door handle, still grinning. “Have fun at Lucky’s. I’ll text you later.”

She gets out and walks up the cracked sidewalk that splits the tiny front yard in half and leads up to the porch, waving at me once.

It’s all I can do not to jump out of the car and yell more advice her way. Don’t take a drink from anyone but a bartender! Don’t get into that guy’s car with him! And for fuck’s sake, don’t go out with him again!

I go back and forth between thinking about her date tonight and how much I need a drink while I drive to Lucky’s. Fuck. I’m about to come unglued.

Am I genuinely concerned for Lindy’s well-being? Yes. But is my concern mostly fueled by jealousy? I’d feel like an asshole admitting to anyone but myself that, yes, it is. And that sends me over left field and out of the park even more so than finding out about her date.* * *I drain my glass and set it on the table, looking around the bar.

“Where the fuck’s the waitress? I need a refill.”

“You need a big glass of Chill the Fuck Out,” Anton says, shaking his head. “You’ve had at least a dozen beers already.”

“So what? Not everyone’s a choirboy like you,” I say even though I’m pretty sure I haven’t had that many…I think.

“Yeah, but not drinking has been working pretty well for you lately, so what’s this all about?”

My phone lights up and I grab it off the table to check it. It’s just an ESPN app notification. I set the phone back down.

“Guess I’m just thirsty,” I say, shrugging.

“It was a shitty day. I had a beer myself when I got here.”

Anton and I are crammed in around a big table at the loud sports bar. Between all the regular customers and people who came here for the get-together after Lily’s funeral, Lucky’s is packed.

My phone lights up again, and I quickly reach for it.

Lindy: We just left the restaurant. Going to a bar called Hannigan’s for a drink before I go home.

Me: Another drink??? How many did you have at dinner?

Lindy: I had water at dinner.

I pout at my phone screen while I type out a reply.

Me: Text me when you leave the bar. I can come get you if you need me to.

After setting my phone down on the table again, I scrub my hands down my face. It’s been a long fucking day. I just want to fall face first into bed and sleep for the next twelve hours. But I can’t do that until I know Lindy’s home safe.

“You okay?” Easy asks from the seat next to mine, his brows arched skeptically.

“I’m fuckin’ awesome. Just need another beer.”