Speakeasy (True North #5)(61)

“Let’s go, May,” my brother says sharply. Like I’m one of his farm animals that isn’t falling in line.

“So go already,” I snap. “I’ll help Alec clean up after the wake.”

“It’s late,” my brother presses. His face is full of questions. Like—why am I so chummy with Alec and what the hell is going on here tonight?

“What do you want from me?” I demand. “What exactly is the problem?”

He looks between Alec and me as if he can’t quite work out why we’re standing together in a dark storeroom. But, damn it. It’s none of his business. “Drive safe,” he says, then he turns to leave.

“You can go, you know,” Alec says a moment later. “Preserve the illusion that we don’t know each other that well.”

We don’t, though, and that’s the whole problem. Alec only gets to see Fun May. I’m more like Smitty than he thinks. I never ever want him to see that, either. “I can help you shut down the party next door. I know you’re having a long night.”

Someone snickers from the rear door, which is still standing open. It’s Smitty. He’s hauled himself to his feet and is now leaning in the doorway. “A long night? Or an all-nighter? I bet Alec didn’t tell you why you’re his latest piece.”

“My what?” Alec gives him a look that’s sharper than cut glass. “Don’t be a dick right now.”

“Yeah, I’m not allowed to say a word, because I’m just a stupid junkie. And you’re the big business owner. But you’re also the guy who said—‘Wouldn’t it be funny if I got even with Griff Shipley by sleeping with his sister?’”

“I never said that!” Alec barks. “That is not how the conversation went.”

“You laughed your ass off.” Smitty says, his smile evil. “You hate the Shipleys. Everybody knows it.”

“Fuck you!” Alec snarls. “What is your goddamn problem? Go home.”

Alec doesn’t, however, dispute it again. And when he turns to look at me, I can see it in his face. They had that conversation. Some form of it anyway.

And suddenly I have to get away from him. I step past Alec, shoving Smitty out of the way. He smells like vomit. It’s a scent I know too well from my lowest days.

“May!” Alec calls after me. “Don’t believe his bullshit.”

But I don’t stop. I’ve had all the truth that I can take tonight. And my car is conveniently located in my special secret parking place on the other side of the dumpster.

Sixty seconds later I’m driving away, feeling horribly upset. Because Alec didn’t outright deny that he and Smitty discussed seducing me.

Tears cloud my vision and I have to blink them away. It’s just sex. Those are my own words. So why am I so surprised that Alec treated me like a conquest?

The dark road stretches out in front of me. It’s snowing lightly, so the headlights illuminate the flakes better than the road. When the entrance to the highway appears, I don’t get on it. I take the side roads instead. I need to think.

But thinking hurts. All the things Alec has said and done these last two months are a jumble to me now. We had a good time. Alec wouldn’t fake that. I know it in my gut.

Or do I? Daniela was cheating on me, and I didn’t notice.

So did Alec have sex with me just to piss off my brother? Maybe. He seems awfully eager to let the whole world know we’re together.

I hate thinking that. But I know for a fact that Zara’s feelings once got hurt by Griff, and that Alec didn’t like it. Heck. The whole town knew about it. I can see the appeal of settling that score.

With that in mind, everything between Alec and me looks a little different than it did before. The way he so eagerly volunteered to go to the law school function. The way he kept it up with me afterward, showering me with attention.

I never was the cool, fun girl he made me feel like. Of course I wasn’t.

The way he looks at me sometimes, though… Like he can’t wait to kiss me again. Is that real, or is that fake?

And does it even matter? We are not supposed to be a couple. So why am I so sad right now?

I take each curve of the road carefully. And it occurs to me that I could buy a bottle of wine somewhere on the way home and nobody would know. Tonight I watched somebody almost die, and I found out that a boy I like a little too much probably only flattered me to annoy my brother.

This deserves a drink, right?

Men suck. I want to call up Lark and tell her all about it. But she doesn’t agree that men suck, and she’s probably making love to hers right now.

If I can’t have Lark, I want a drink. It always comes back to this. A drink would be such a relief right now. It sounds like such a small thing, really. Why can’t I have it?

The road is dark and empty. There aren’t any stores on this stretch—certainly nothing that’s open at ten p.m. on a Sunday night. Not even a convenience store.

The thin line between my sobriety and relapse might come down to this: it’s inconvenient to fall off the wagon in a rural community.

My phone vibrates in my jacket pocket.

Alec, probably. He’ll tell me not to listen to Smitty. He’ll tell me that he would have slept with me anyway, even if he didn’t want to get even with my brother. Maybe it’s even true.