Guy Hater (Fisher Brothers 2)
“No pressure or anything. I mean, you don’t have to use it. It’s just . . .”
Oh my God. I couldn’t stop stumbling over my words, and Britney started laughing hard.
“Frank makes you stupid, Claudia. I swear, she never acts like this.”
“Gotta go,” I said, then yanked on Britney’s arm, leaving Frank and everyone else in the bar behind.
I was officially mortified.
Confessions
Frank
I watched as Claudia pulled Britney out the front doors, half tempted to chase her outside. If I thought for one second that it wouldn’t embarrass Claudia further, I would have done it.
Unfurling my fingers from the paper I clenched, I instinctively knew what would be there. Just like I thought, Claudia had given me her name and number, taunting me, daring me to dial it.
Pulling out my cell phone, I almost sent her a text message, but I hesitated. It was in that millisecond of hesitation that guilt pushed its way in. That was all it took to make me to refocus. Shoving my phone and the note into my pocket, I headed back behind the bar to finish the evening with my brothers.
Once the bar was cleared out and locked up for the night and the rest of the staff sent home, Ryan started in on me. The little shit had been waiting hours to have this discussion.
“Can we please have a serious conversation?” He washed a glass as he spoke, but his eyes met mine, and they looked almost sad.
When Nick stopped what he was doing and inched closer to where Ryan and I stood, I played dumb. “What are we getting serious about?”
“You know what,” Nick said, but Ryan waved him off.
“Let me handle this,” he whispered to Nick.
“Um, I can hear you, you know?”
“Of course I know,” Ryan snapped. “Now, listen. There’s something I can’t figure out, okay? And I don’t want you getting all pissed off and closing up on us when I ask you.”
I groaned, wishing that Ryan would cut to the chase already and stop beating around the bush like a fucking girl. “Spit it out. I can handle whatever it is you’re too chickenshit to ask.”
He dropped the glass into the soapy water and it splashed all over his shirt. Thank God he’d put it back on after last call. “What’s the deal with you and Shelby?”
That was it? That was his big dramatic question?
“What kind of question is that? How am I supposed to answer that?”
Nick said slowly, “I think what Ryan’s trying to say is, we can see that you’re not happy. We don’t understand why you stay.”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that question, or if I wanted to. I’d kept everything to myself for so long, not wanting to burden anyone with my mess, but maybe it was time to unload. I wasn’t good at asking for help, but maybe that’s what these two were here for. God knew I’d do anything for either of them, and I knew they’d do the same for me. I just hated the very idea of needing anyone.
Without a word, I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and snagged three shot glasses. We’d done the same thing for Nick when we needed him to talk to us about all the crazy shit that was going on in his life. He’d tried to keep the things our father was doing to him a secret from us, but we’d plied him with enough alcohol that he started talking. It was our thing, I supposed.
Nick picked up the shot I pushed toward him. “I’m sensing a theme here.”
“That we’re alcoholics?” Ryan picked his up too.
“No. That we confess our truths over shots of hard liquor,” Nick said. “It’s how we bond.”
“I need it if you want me to have this discussion with you,” I said, my tone somber.
“Drink up.” Nick grinned and tipped back his first shot. “Start talking, Frank.”
“Don’t push me,” I growled.