Crashed Out (Made in Jersey, #1)(45)

“Hey,” River prompted, worry plain on her face. “Is this…are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. Yes.” Someone pressed a drink into Jasmine’s hand, and she took it partly on reflex, but mostly out of gratefulness to have a distraction from her best friend’s scrutiny. “He’s leaving, right? It’ll take care of itself.”

When River’s blue eyes squeezed shut, Jasmine knew in her bones that Sarge stood behind her. Had been the one to bring her a drink. Jasmine wanted to sprint for the ladies’ room, but remained rooted to the ground. Sarge drew up beside her—not touching—and leaned over to kiss River’s cheek. “Hey, Riv.” His voice was strained. “Marcy with the sitter?”

“Yes.” River split a look between them before checking her watch. “My time is almost up, though. Fifteen minutes more and I’ll turn into a pumpkin.”

“You sure you’re heading home?” Sarge asked, his usual smile looking forced.

Jasmine watched with curiosity as her friend’s shoulders drooped. “W-where else would I be going?”

Sarge gave a slow headshake. “Nowhere. Let me get you a cab.”

“Already called one. See you both tomorrow.” River gave them both a hurried peck on the cheek, waving over her shoulder as the crowd swallowed her up.

“What was that about?” Jasmine asked, wondering what the hell she’d been missing. Had she been so caught up in the force that was Sarge, she’d let her best friend duties fall by the wayside? Unacceptable. “Sarge?”

He tipped back his Budweiser, throat working as he swallowed the hearty sip. “I stopped by the church today to see Adeline. She told me River has been working night shifts at some club.”

“What?”

“I take it you didn’t know, either.” He cast a glance toward the door where River exited. “Did you know Vaughn isn’t even aware of Marcy? River is doing all of this on her own and there might not be a need for it. He could help.”

Jasmine’s pulse slowed. “That was your sister’s decision, Sarge. You need to speak with her about it. Unless…it’s too late and you’ve already done something you can’t take back.”

Blue eyes bored into hers. “I had to. Not everything takes care of itself.”

The bowling ball tugging on Jasmine’s stomach lining gained around ten pounds when Sarge repeated the words she’d just said to River. About him. Somehow since walking into the bar, she’d disappointed two people who mattered like hell to her. “I’m sorry you heard that, but you’re taking it the wrong way.”

His laughter was devoid of humor. “There’s only one way to take it, Jas. This arrangement works for you because I’m getting gone. No muss, no fuss. No one in town the wiser.” He set his empty beer bottle down on one of the wobbly bar tables, exerting enough force to turn a couple heads. “That was the deal up front, though, wasn’t it? Nothing changed along the way.”

The way he said it suggested everything had changed. He knew it. He knew Jasmine knew it, too. Knew it deep in her gut that orange flickers had flamed into a fire. Instead of admitting the facts, though, self-preservation rose up and snatched the opportunity to protect her. “I was convenient for you, too.” She whispered for his ears alone. “It went both ways.”

“Convenient.” The word came out sounding choked. He took a step away from her, as if ending their conversation, but he came right back, eyes shooting sparks. She expected him to stop closing in, but he didn’t. Just kept coming until his breath was pelting her forehead. “You know, I actually thought I could get you out of my blood with a few nights in bed. But it was a goddamn fool’s mission. I’m the fool. I’ll admit that. Nothing will ever work—because you’re in me. And there’s nothing convenient about it.”

“Sarge—”

“I saw this coming. We’re in this f*cking place ten minutes and you’re already talking about us in the past tense. What happened?”

She needed to step back before Sarge overwhelmed her. A voice in her head urged her toward him. Just leap. Just leap. Even in a bar full of people who would judge her, laugh at her for preying on a younger man. A man who’d earned all the glory she’d been so vocal about and confident she would obtain. Who cared, though, as long as he walked out beside her?

Those were dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that would lead her down a path to heartbreak. She’d be the only one left behind to field the fallout. “I need to use the bathroom,” she managed, backing away, a little surprised when Sarge let her go. With his determined face fresh and unfading in her mind, Jasmine leaned over the bathroom sink, the bass from the bar stereo matching her pumping heartbeat. There was a sense of impending doom in the atmosphere, and she couldn’t swim free of it. She just needed a night to sleep it off and face the Sarge situation with fresh eyes in the morning. Resolved to give Sarge her apartment keys, then call a cab to River’s—alone—Jasmine took a deep breath and left the bathroom.

Sarge was waiting in the dimness of the hallway. For a split second, Jasmine considered staying the course, walking the opposite direction toward the bar, instead of toward the bar’s back party room where Sarge stood. Waiting. His jaw was carved from granite, chest rising and falling with fast breaths. Dammit, he was pulling her in, beckoning her closer without even moving or speaking. But the need in his eyes spoke volumes. Sarge was as desperate as Jasmine was for oblivion, and it would only require taking a few steps to achieve it.