“You know, there’s something I need to say—something we need to talk about. Okay?” He waited until I met his gaze. “That night you were hurt, the night you almost died, I wasn’t there for you. It happened to you because of me.”

“Stop.” My heart twisted something painful in my chest as I scooted closer to him, still holding the board. “You didn’t—”

“I didn’t try to rob you? I didn’t pull that trigger?”

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Hearing those words spoken, words I barely allowed myself to think about, caused me to flinch as those memories came roaring back. It was like a plug pulled from a water-filled sink. There was no stopping the deluge.

I didn’t remember walking across the packed parking lot.

All I knew was that I was standing in front of my car with my hands slapped over my eyes. Oh God, he totally bailed on me. Brock had me drive all the way up here to spend time with him, with just him and me, and he was inside of Mona’s with everyone else—with those girls. That totally just happened. Brock had seriously bailed on me.

My shoulders shook as a sob rose in my throat. Brock didn’t even see anything wrong with ditching me. I saw that in his face. Not for a single moment did he think there was anything wrong, and I was so, so stupid.

So fucking stupid in my dumb dress and dumb makeup. No wonder he’d looked at me like he had when he first saw me. It hadn’t been because he finally saw me as something other than his Jillybean. It was because I looked ridiculous. Compared to the girls in there—to Kristen—who were wearing skintight denim skirts or jeans, I looked like I was playing dress up.

Tears streamed down my face as I lowered my hands and slipped my purse off my shoulder. Katie had been right. Brock would get laid tonight. He wasn’t going home alone while I was—

“Excuse me?”

Sucking back tears, I turned around. A man stood there—close, too close. I took a step back, bumping into the side of my car. There wasn’t enough light in the parking lot for him to see my tear-stained face, thank God. But I also couldn’t see much of this man. What I could see wasn’t good. His cheekbones appeared gaunt. His eyes were shadowy, and when I breathed in deeply, I smelled the pungent scent of sweat and greasy food. His hands were shoved into the pockets of what appeared to be dark work pants.

Unease blossomed in the pit of my belly. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah.” He turned his head slightly to the side and barked out a dry cough. “Do you have a dollar?”