Start a War (Saint View Psychos #1)(23)

I just had to get to a place where that was even possible. And right now, with last night’s fear still trembling through my limbs, and my heart broken for my brother, numbness felt a long way away.

Nash took in everything I was trying to hide but couldn’t. “Do you want some coffee?”

I laughed, pulling away from his touch, knowing Caleb wouldn’t want me near him like this. “You sell coffee here?” This didn’t seem like a coffee and cake sort of establishment. More like beer, cigarettes, and bar fights.

“Not good stuff. But I know somewhere that does.”

Without waiting for me to agree, he leaned over the bar top, reaching beneath the other side for his wallet and keys. His shirt rode up a bit as he stretched, and my gaze strayed to his jean-clad ass.

“Enjoying the scenery there, Dis?” Rebel whispered, swinging by with her now-empty tray and tossing it onto the bar.

Heat flushed my cheeks, and I shot her a dirty look, even though Nash didn’t acknowledge that he’d heard anything. Still, I was embarrassed. Nash’s ass wasn’t anything I should have been observing with another man’s ring on my finger.

Nash straightened with his wallet and keys in his hand. “You ready? I’ll drive.”

I didn’t trust myself to answer, but Nash wasn’t waiting for one. He put his hand to my lower back and herded me toward the parking lot. “Mind the fort,” he called to Rebel. “Don’t fucking drink on the job.”

Rebel’s tears had been safely locked away, and her sass was back. “At least not ’til you get back and join in, right? Should I have shots ready to go?”

Nash just shook his head and kept walking. “You’re fired.”

She laughed louder. “You ain’t the boss anymore, Boss Man. Damn, gonna have to get a new nickname for you now.”

“You could just call me Nash, you know? Like everyone else. Since it’s my name and all.”

“Where’s the fun in that? Everyone needs a good nickname. Right, Disney?”

I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t gone by a nickname in a very long time. Until I’d moved in with my father, I hadn’t even known my legal name was Bethany-Melissa. I’d only ever been Bliss until that point. My father had hated that nickname. He’d said it sounded cheap and classless, just like my mother.

He’d insisted on calling me Bethany-Melissa ever since, and he’d stiffly correct anyone who even tried shortening it to anything else. I was never Beth in his presence. Or even just Bethany. I couldn’t even fathom what he’d make of Rebel calling me Disney.

I doubted he’d ever get the chance to school her on the correct use of my name though. My father would likely perish on the spot if he stepped inside Psychos.

Nash pulled the door open for me, then did the same with the door on his Jeep.

“Ah, thank you,” I murmured. “You don’t have to do that though. I’m not a princess.”

“Rebel seems to think otherwise.”

He closed the door and jogged around to his side, sliding behind the steering wheel.

The interior of his car was old and tattered but clean enough. The seats were faded, and mine had a small tear in the fabric, but the floormats had been vacuumed recently, and there was nothing but a soft-looking gray sweatshirt on the back seat. I busied myself by gazing around and out the window, all too aware that I’d again found myself alone with a man Caleb wouldn’t approve of.

But I needed to talk to Nash. And I needed some sort of beverage to do that. A glass of red wine might have been my first choice if he hadn’t pointed out the hour. So coffee would have to do.

Neither of us spoke during the car ride, but it was only a few minutes’ drive to a diner on the main strip. Nash parked in front of it, and I got out quickly before he could come and open the door for me.

“You remember this place?”

I stepped through the door ahead of him, gaze bouncing around the brown leather booths and cream floor tiles. “No. Should I?”

He shrugged. “Probably not. It’s had a facelift since you lived here.”

“My mother never took me anywhere to eat. Me eating was never high on her priority list.”

He didn’t comment on that bleak statement. He probably already knew, since he’d been there to witness it firsthand. He pointed at a booth in a back corner. “That’s my regular table.”

I made a beeline for it, Nash so close behind me I was sure I could feel his body heat through the thin material of my blouse. I scurried across one side, hoping he wouldn’t sit beside me.

He didn’t. He took the seat opposite, watching me in the same quiet way he always had. That was almost worse because it meant I had nowhere to focus but right on him.

I didn’t want to notice how attractive he’d become. It was better to try to keep him in that big brother box, where he’d firmly sat until I’d walked back into his life.

My back was to the waitresses behind the glass counter that showed off an array of pies and cakes, but Nash waved to someone, and a moment later, two mugs of steaming-hot coffee were placed in front of us.

Grateful for something to do with my hands, I raised my mug to my mouth to take a sip.

“Careful,” Nash warned. “They make it hot around here.”

Warning heeded, I blew gently across the top of the brown liquid, clearing some of the steam rising from it.