“I’m sure.”
“If it’s a complication from breaking your leg, if they didn’t set it right—”
“Back off, Ash. I mean it.”
He gives me a long, hard look. “Dickhead. Just looking out for you. We’re a family, dammit. It’s what we do.”
Dylan has stopped pacing and is staring at me as well.
Shit. These are the people who got me off the street, who gave me a second chance, and I’m acting like an asshole.
But I can’t tell them. If I open this can of worms, they’ll want to get to the bottom of it, and it’s a fucking mess. Plus, Shane’s involvement in it means I just can’t talk, period. It ain’t only about me.
Fuck.
“All right, let’s go,” Asher says as Dylan comes around the sofa to help me up—like I’m a toddler and can’t do it on my own, but damn, I’m so dizzy it’s all I can do not to throw up again.
When they get me upright and throw my arms over their shoulders to keep me from falling, when my bad leg folds, and they curse and drag me out the door, I only hope neither of them notices that the knee giving me problems isn’t the one of the leg I broke.
Chapter Six
Manon
Cassie managed to get me Seth’s phone number—not sure I want to know how—and I’ve tried it three times already.
He won’t answer.
Or he’s asleep or something. But it’s been hours. And my courage is starting to flag.
Maybe he doesn’t want to see me again. Or talk to me, for that matter. His friends are probably with him, and they’re having beers and watching soccer.
He was okay. Apart from his knee giving him some trouble, he was all right. No reason to worry.
No reason to call or visit. And he doesn’t seem interested in talking to me or seeing me, either. That much is clear. I’m the fool who went looking for his number. What if he’s looking at the missed calls right now and ignoring me, hoping I’ll stop?
Angry at myself, embarrassed, I arrive at my meeting with Cassie in a foul mood.
As if I needed more reasons for that. Not the best day to hear Cassie’s explanations, but I can’t put it off.
Not forever.
She’s already sitting at the bar in Halo when I enter. Her pale hair gleams in the half-light, her cleavage seems to glow over the low cut of her black, lacy blouse. Long silver hoops glint on her ears.
That’s Cassie. Always a sex goddess, even when miserable.
She has always been my idol, since we were little and we dressed our Barbies in gowns and glittering dresses underneath the dining room table while our parents met to play cards.
That was before Mom and Dad split, and she left to France. This white streak I have in my hair, that’s from back then. I try to dye it, but the color never catches, always reminding me of that time. The sorrow, the tears, the tearing pain when my mom moved away.
Reminding me I wasn’t enough to keep them together. I’m never enough for anybody or anything.
“Manon!” Cassie waves at me, hopping off her stool, wobbling dangerously on her black stilettos. “Here.”
“Yeah.” I wave back and make my way to her, glancing right and left in case anyone we know is there.
Like Jesse’s buddies who barely talk to me as it is. Without me hanging out with the girl who forced herself on their friend. This place, Halo, is where they normally meet.
I should have told her to pick another bar. Too late now.