BooksBarbecue
Back Where There's A Will
Chapters (39)
  1. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  2. PROLOGUE
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. Interlude
  37. Acknowledgements
  38. Content Warning
  39. About the Author

Her face scrunches up in a humored sort of bafflement. “He’s gay.”

What?

She’s shaking her head and looking at me like I’m the world’s biggest idiot. Will’s muttering something I can’t make out that has Mason chuckling as he passes him. Ivy’s tugging on my shirt, and I’m not sure what Shawn’s doing. Three Days Grace is playing somewhere in the background, singing about the futility of hate, because how fucking fitting—

The girl tilts her head. “You didn’t know?” She turns toward Will, and I just stare at the side of her head, unable to make myself move. She says something, but there’s this roar going on in my head, and I can’t...

I just can’t.

Whatever expression was on my face a moment ago freezes over. Completely solidifies as my brain struggles to compute what she just implied, only to reach a full-blown system error.

Will sighs. “It’s fine, Kate. He—”

Ding ding ding.

“Kate,” I croak. “Your name’s Kate.” I latch on to this fact like a buoy in a night storm.

She jerks her head around and scowls. “Are you kidding me? You forgot—”

“I don’t do repeats,” I say softly. “Sorry.”

Her glare sharpens, and I don’t miss the way her fingers flex around her glass.

Fucking shit. Not tonight. Not now. Please—

Another tug at my shirt and I look down.

Ivy has her pale cheeks clutched in her hands. Eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t feel well.”

Someone mutters a curse, and a chair scrapes across the floor.

Blinking, I move into action and help my cousin to a wobbly stand. “I’ve got her,” I blurt too quickly. To Ivy, I murmur a soft, “Come on.”

“What the hell, Waylon?” Kate demands angrily.

I glance up just as Will leans over to murmur something in her ear that has her huffing and crossing her arms. My eyes drop for a solid beat to the large tanned hand now gripping her glass.

I grab my smokes and the whiskey and lead Ivy toward the stairwell. Ignoring the eyes drilling into the side of my head and the shame chomping at my heels.

The red beaded curtain leading to upstairs looms ahead of me like some kind of funhouse attraction, and it takes everything in me not to shove Ivy forward. Throw her over my shoulder, make a run for it.

And.

Never.

Fucking.

Look.

Back.

8

8

Will Foster

“What the hell, Waylon?”

Kate’s still fuming beside me, lip curling as she stares after Waylon and Ivy. I set the would-be projectile down on the table, focusing on anything other than Waylon and Ivy as they make their way upstairs.