His eyebrows shot all the way up, and he rocked backwards.

“She’s Hunter’s sister. Don’t hurt him because you’re wrong in the head. And fuck’s sake, that’s her father whose saying this shit about her. Think on that. Her father. If your dad said that shit about you—”

Chad blinked a few times. “My dad is an asshole, though. He’s said and done worse.”

“Was he right about what he said about you?”

A whole new beast came over Chad. A new scowl, but this one had more heat to it. “Fuck no, he wasn’t.”

“That’s Deek and Cheyenne, and man, Deek is so far wrong about her, that it’s not even sad. It’s just wrong. And you’re wrong for taking up his side.”

“Deek’s been there for me.”

“So have empathy for the kid he hasn’t been there for, and you know what? If you can’t see the similarities between your dickhead dad and how Deek is being regarding Cheyenne, then I don’t know what to say or do.”

“Does she want him to grovel or something? He paid for her college.”

I stilled, giving him a whole new look because was he actually being this stupid on purpose.

I said, going with him on this one, “You’re right. I mean, he bought her off in a way. What right does she have to push for a relationship with her brother? Her college got paid off. How dare she?”

“Exactly!”

I stared at him. Hard.

Chad frowned, and I could see the thoughts going on in his head.

He said a second later, “You don’t actually believe that.”

“Not a fucking chance in hell.” My blood was boiling.

I never wanted to put hands on my best friend, but I did tonight.

“My parents paid for my college, too. They’d never think of using that as a string to control me.”

“Well, Deek isn’t—”

“It doesn’t matter. Maybe he had a moment of conscience when Donna was in rehab? Maybe that’s why he let her move into the house? Maybe he decided against it later? I don’t know. I’m just looking at a guy I thought was like a brother to me, referring to someone I’m falling in love with as ‘that,’ and he’s got no clue why I’m not down for it.”

He closed his eyes, his body weaving backwards a little before he opened them again.

“Cut,” a raspy whisper from him. “I’m thinking I might have gotten a few things wrong over the years.”

I leaned in, done with this conversation. “No. Shit. Me too.”

I headed back to my box and over to the booth where Cheyenne was sitting. Her gaze found mine instantly, and her eyebrows pulled together. She looked behind me, then back to mine.

I turned, too, but the box was empty.

The door was just closing.

Chad had bounced.

I went over, thinking what a shittastic ending it was to this whole day, but Hendrix got up. He held out his fist to mine, a drunk smile on his face, and I met it with mine before he did what I thought he would. He moved in and he was all in Sasha’s area.

But she was for it, judging from how she snuggled into his side.

I slid in and Cheyenne moved over to me. “You okay?”

I didn’t respond. Too much shit was upside down, and I didn’t care who saw us. I lifted her up, sitting her on my lap, and she leaned back against me.

This made the shittastic day a helluva lot better.37CheyenneI was feeling all warm and toasty, and that was because of Cut.

We stayed at Bresko’s for two hours, and he held me the whole time.

Warm. Toasty. So Cut.

Sasha had been flirting with Hendrix all night, and there was some sadness in her eyes. I dubbed them ‘Chad eyes’ because she only looked that way when he was around or when he was supposed to be around. By the end of the night, I was noticing her ‘Hendrix eyes’ were a whole lot happier. She was giggling, and Sasha never giggled.

Ever.

This was secret agent-like Sasha. Strip club, no-nonsense business owner Sasha. Giggling was not in her list of abilities until tonight. And she blushed. I never saw that. Melanie blushed. I got flushed sometimes, but that was the extent. Russian-like Sasha, no blush.

The world was officially tipped upside down.

But then there was Melanie.

After the tense talk between Cassie and Melanie, the two were good. They were holding hands, sneaking kisses, and they were laughing at whatever Hendrix was saying.

It was a good night. For me. Not for Cut.

I waited until we got to his house, and we decided on his house because we were already outside the city limits. A quick swing around and we were closer to his place than going into downtown for my apartment. I was also secretly planning on stealing another one of his hockey shirts, and by stealing, I meant to say that I would ask which one I could have because keeping a boyfriend’s shirt—especially a pro-hockey player’s shirt—was every girl’s age-old tradition. That or a never used pair of his boxers.