Bait (Wake, #1)(115)

The bitch slapped me. I had been bitch-slapped in every sense.

All the while, I stood there processing what had just happened, she went back to applying her gloss. She finished and put it back into her bag.

“It's ironic, you know? That you asked me that. I ask Casey the same question. Why do you want her, if she doesn't want you back?” She stepped to me and surprisingly I stood my ground, even seconds after being hit. She continued, “The answer is simple. I love him like he loves you. So, go on and keep tearing him down. I'll be here every single time you do to build him back up. Just like I was the other night.” She laughed again. “He always did know how to make me come harder than anyone else.” Then she left the small room, but her words hung in the air as if they were in little, comic strip word bubbles.

As I feebly tried to calm myself, I thought about how this mess, our mess, had affected so many people. I hated Aly, but replaying the things she said to me I almost had to respect how much she really cared about Casey.

At least she had good taste.

Then, a flood of jealously washed those thoughts away.

He f*cked her?

He brought her here that night.

He danced with her.

My head fizzed with doubt and anger and—even though it wasn't mine to have—betrayal bobbed its way to the very top.

I didn't know how much more I could take.

I needed to leave.



When I finally had my bearings, I found myself walking out into the bustling bar. I needed to find Grant and when I did he was, again, talking to Casey. I couldn’t imagine what they’d have to talk about or why they kept finding each other. My stomach rolled like it had since the plane wheels left Washington State.

Their bodies both looked tense. Each man stood full-chested like roosters about ready to fight. I'd never seen Grant behave that way. He didn't give anything away the night before or that morning. I thought that maybe it was all in my head. Then I saw them there, almost chest to chest.

Something wasn't right. Something big was about to happen. The energy in the room popped and crackled. I had no choice but to throw myself at the mercy of the situation. The air was charged exactly like the air before a summer storm.

I slowly made my way to them. Listening to my heels catch on the uneven wood floor of the bar that changed my life. I diverted my eyes to the ground and took my place next to my husband.

“I think it's time to leave,” I said and both men looked at me. I still couldn't make my mind up about who to look at, or maybe I had and thought better of it, so I continued to stare at my shoes.

“I was just talking to Casey. I didn't know you guys knew each other this well,” said Grant. He had drunk more tonight than I'd seen him drink—well, ever. His voice held an edge to it that I wasn't acquainted with.

I chanced a look up at him, his eyes were glassy and blood shot.

“He's Cory's brother. I've known him since Micah and Cory started dating.” It sounded like an excuse, even to me. My head and heart were at odds and it made me sound like a robot not knowing how to use my voice, not wanting to say the wrong thing with the wrong tone to the wrong man. I thought it was trivial how, in that moment, I was the one who sounded like an emotionless recording. My hands fidgeted and my hips rocked back and forth. My nerves were shot.

“And we share a godson, Blake, I'm Cory's brother and godfather to Foster, your godson. It feels like there's more to it though. Don't you think?” His face had hardened in the time I was in the bathroom with Aly.

Casey’s inelastic posture didn't wear the same on him as his suave easygoing one did. His body was tense and uncomfortable, appearing as if it itched in all the wrong places. His words felt like wool against my two-faced heart. I felt his irritation and reciprocated it.

Grant was just the opposite. Loose. Fluid and his body moved in ebbs and flows and his face swayed with his head that looked back and forth between Casey and me.

“My wife,” Grant said, the sound of his f fizzed like the air being let out of a tire, “wants to leave. With me.” He grabbed onto my arm and spun me much faster than I was prepared for. Grant wasn't a hands-on kind of guy. This included all handy actions. Ass grabbing. Tickling. Petting. Pulling. He was always in control of his person. But not then.

His hand squeezed my arm right below my shoulder. The difference in height, and the force of his hold, brought me up on my tiptoes.

I whimpered. And I heard a gasp from around the room, it was another one of those moments in between songs where the volume on life gets cranked up to deafening decibels. I turned to find all of them watching. They all had been waiting. They'd all earned this show. Audrey's hand covered her mouth, but everyone else stood very still.

My eyes swelled with molten tears. I did everything in my power to not look into Casey’s hard stare. Again, my willpower wasn't enough.

Much more sober than my husband, in every way, Casey's nose flared and a wicked smile parted his lips and his teeth bared. I'd been wrong. It wasn't a smile. It was more of a snarl and my free hand reached out to him.

It was the most freeing feeling, a cool breeze swept over my mind.

I stayed my feet into the floor and resisted Grant’s pull toward the exit.

“No!” Casey shouted, having seen my hesitance. “I don’t think she wants to go yet.”