Fuck. That hits me.
“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she never leaves us,” I say with every ounce of confidence I can muster.
But the part that kills me? It’s that I might not be the one who is around for him growing up. And now, the only solace I can take from that is knowing that Lola loves my boy.
I set him down, and Beau steps in.
“Was Lola okay when she left? Did you see her?” I ask.
“I don’t really know her, brother. Can’t tell you what she’s feeling.”
Fucking hell, he irritates me.
“She’s in Red Creek,” I say flatly.
“Yeah. I told her to be careful.”
He fucking knew? That place is evil. It’s not safe. I told Ashley that. “Next time, send someone with her,” I hiss.
I’m trying not to be annoyed at him. But he could have called me. Or used his common sense.
“You’re her husband. You go.” He tilts his head with a smirk. “Oh, right. You can’t. You made your choice when you sided with that piece over your best friend.”
My fists clench. Is he fucking serious?
“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, Beau.”
“You realize marrying her just gave you someone else to babysit,” he spits, full of bitterness. And then he grabs his phone from his pocket, totally clocking out of our conversation.
He’s got a damn problem with my marriage, and it’s nothing to do with the woman.
“She’s my wife, and you’ll treat her with some damn respect. If I tell you to watch out for her, you do it,” I snap.
He glances up over his phone, uninterested. “Whatever. Fine.”
“Get the fuck out of my house, Beau.”
He goes. Without looking back. Good. Because I’m one more comment away from smacking him in the mouth.
I text Lola.
ME: I’m sorry about how I handled today, firefly. I’ll make it up to you later. I love you.
LOLA: Yeah you will, cowboy. I love you more.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
LOLA
The bar is packed.But Violet was right, it is a vibe, and my mood has perked up since Hunter texted.
I sit back and watch Violet and Luke on the dance floor. I really think she might be wrong about him. I see that spark. I do wonder how she’s going to end it, because she still has to work with him. Or fire him, I suppose. But, that isn’t V. I trust her to handle it, though.
A pretty blonde girl slides into the chair opposite me. Silver nose ring. Pastel green sundress. Cowboy boots. Her green eyes lock onto mine.
“Hi.” I pick up my espresso martini. The bartender had to look up how to make it because apparently, it’s not ordered here often.
“Hey. I’m Harper.”