I study his face for a moment. “You really want to make a crude comment right now, don’t you?”

He releases a breath. “You have no idea.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head before finishing what’s left of my coffee in one, scalding swallow.

“Here.” I don’t say anything as he brings the pot over to fill my cup. I mutter a thanks before grabbing the sugar, all the while feeling his eyes on me.

“So...”

“So.”

“About last night—”

I give a quick little shake of my head. “Forget it.”

“Way—”

I glare up at him, fingers tightening around the sugar dispenser. I grit out, “I said forget it. I already did.”

His eyes pinch at the corners and he looks down.

Fuck.

I flash back to the night before, unable to help myself. Something changed—something in Will after my cruel outburst. Once the anger passed, he just seemed sad. Withdrawn.

It wasn’t like the words were cruel in and of themselves, but it was clear the venom with which they escaped me left no room for argument. I wanted to remind him what he did. I wanted to hurt him. The thing is, I didn’t even realize that’s what it was until it was too late to take them back.

I’m the one who insisted on letting bygones be bygones, and what did I do the first chance I got? Blew that so-called plan to smithereens.

“Is that why you’re here?” I blurt before I can stop myself.

“What?”

I shrug. “I assume you got too trashed to drive and had to crash here.”

He sweeps my features. “I wasn’t trashed,” he says slowly, “but I was definitely over the limit. Mason offered the couch.”

I nod once strongly. Of course he did.

“Huh.”

I try not to bristle. “What?”

“Nothing. Just...it’s interesting.” His eyes narrow suspiciously, and I tighten my grip on the mug. “I wasn’t even talking about that, but yeah, what you said might have had a little something to do with why I switched to liquor.” He smiles tightly. “Kind of put a damper on the rest of my night.”

No shit.

He wasn’t the only one affected by poorly timed word vomit. At least we both had work to busy ourselves with as the rest of the night wore on. At some point, I found myself talking to two pretty blondes, one of which was visiting from New York. She and her friend—a local I’ve seen hang around the bar during nights we played—were beyond wasted, hinting and promising things no one in their right mind would ever turn down.

Of the right mind, I’m clearly not.