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I feel them before I see them—the five guys who join our circle all at once—and the testosterone nearly suffocates me. Charlie and Ben are here. And three more of their hockey teammates. Their fists are flexing at their sides. Their chests are puffed out, and each one is standing tall, ready for an altercation. I think I see steam coming from their nostrils, like in all those exaggerated cartoons. Their fierce expressions say they won’t let their captain fight alone.
I glance between my best friend’s brother and the guy I was sort of but not really dating. Ollie and Connor don’t drop their steely stares from one another.
And suddenly, I’ve seen enough. I slam my water glass down on the bar so hard that I’m surprised the glass doesn’t break and stalk off. If these guys want to have a contest to see whose dick is bigger, I’m not going to stand around and watch.
Ollie calls my name, but I don’t stop. I storm through the crowd, out the front door, and keep going.
So much for watching the band tonight.
My steps don’t falter until I’m a block away, hidden in an alleyway and waiting for the rideshare I just ordered. I’m still fuming when it pulls up a few minutes later to take me home.
CHAPTER SEVEN
OLLIE
About the only thing that could pull my attention away from the idiot in front of me, begging for a beatdown, is the angry blonde stomping her way out the front door. I start to trail her, but she disappears into the darkness outside of the building.
“Why are you cockblocking me, Burnham?” Carlson spits, pulling my attention back to him.
He sways on his feet a bit, and it’s the first time tonight that I notice how drunk he is.
This wouldn’t be a fair fight. I’d kill him. I would even if he were sober, but when intoxicated, he wouldn’t stand a chance.
My shoulder knocks into his as I barrel past him and through the crowd, ignoring his question. I can hear him having words with McMann behind me, and that’s the biggest mistake he can make. The big goalie won’t hesitate to trade fists with the wide receiver regardless of how much he drank tonight. Hockey players were born and bred to fight. It won’t end well for Connor.
The music fades as the door to the bar closes behind me. I pause to look left and then right, but I don’t see Madison anywhere. I start walking through the parking lot to scan the cars, but I can’t locate her vehicle here either. I search the street and the businesses beyond for another ten minutes before giving up. I message her twice, but she doesn’t answer either of them.
My frown deepens. Mads is so fucking stubborn.
All I was doing was looking out for her. I kept telling her that Carlson was a bad guy, but she wouldn’t listen. She just kept stringing him along, or maybe that’s what he was doing to her.
Something squeezes in my chest when I think of her being played by a guy like that. And my molars grind when I think of Carlson touching her. Hurting her.
When I came to Cheerz tonight, I spotted the wide receiver right away. He’s not one to keep a low profile in public. He was holding court at the front of the bar, and he was surrounded by women. I watched him flirt with the brunette for a while before the two of them disappeared down the hallway. And when he reappeared a little while later, he was tucking in his shirt and rearranging his clothes. It was obvious they had used more than just the facilities in the restroom.
I couldn’t care less what Carlson did. That was, until I saw Madison here tonight. Immediately, the football douche found her and started sucking on her neck. I wasn’t going to let him make a fool of her. I wasn’t going to watch her go down like that. Even if she’s pissed at me for it.
I climb into my Bronco and start the engine, letting it idle in the parking space as my Bluetooth connects.
“Call Oakley,” I say out loud.
I listen as my phone dials my sister. I shift the gear into reverse and back the vehicle out of the spot. A moment later, I’m pulling onto the street.
“Hello?” my sister’s familiar voice says. She sounds sleepy.
“Did I wake you?” I ask.
“No.” I hear rustling as she moves around. “What’s up?”
“Did Madison get home okay?” I ask.
“I think I heard her come in a minute ago. Why?”
“Go check,” I order.
Oakley sighs, but I hear a door open in the background. There’s a pause before she answers again. “She’s in the shower.”
I exhale and continue steering the car toward my apartment. “Okay. Sleep good, Oak.”
