Shepley shifted in his seat. “I did.”
“You … did? When?”
“Never college. I started all four years of high school. Believe it or not, I was pretty good.”
“What happened? And why haven’t you told me this before?”
Shepley pushed out his water as he leaned further up on the bar. “It’s stupid, I guess. It was the one thing I was better at than all my cousins.”
“But Travis doesn’t talk about it. Your parents don’t talk about it. If you started as a freshman, you must have been better than good. I haven’t even seen any pictures at your house that might insinuate you were in sports.”
“I blew three of four major ligaments in my knee during the last game before the play-offs my senior year. I worked hard to come back, but when I began training for Eastern, the knee didn’t feel the same. It still hadn’t healed, so I was a redshirt freshman. I wasn’t sure how long the coaches would wait, but I knew that even if they gave me the year, I would be done.” He sat up straight. “So, I bowed out.”
“That explains why you always say a different reason for the scars. I thought you were just embarrassed.”
“I was.”
I frowned. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I can see why you want to be a part of it again.”
He nodded, the smile on his face revealing that he was just now realizing that fact himself.
He had opened up. It was the perfect opportunity for me to start a conversation about why the air had been so tense in the car, but as soon as I opened my mouth, I chickened out. “Thanks for telling me.”
“I should have told you a long time ago, but …” He trailed off.
Finally, curiosity and impatience won over fear. “Why does it feel so weird between us?” I asked. “What’s on your mind?”
Shepley tensed even more than he already had been. “What? Nothing. Why do you ask?”
“You’re not thinking of anything?”
“What are you thinking?”
“Baby,” I said, my tone more chastising than I’d meant.
Shepley sighed, nodding when the bartender brought me a cold mug full of amber liquid and a thin line of froth.
“Chug it!” Rich said, grunting. “God, those lips are fucking fantastic. I bet she could suck a golf ball through a garden hose! Lick them after you take a drink, sexy. Do all men everywhere a favor.”
I merely snarled at him, pushing the mug farther away from me.
Rich stood up.
The friend tried to stop him. “For fuck’s sake! Sit down!”
Rich shook his head and wiped his mouth with his forearm, stumbling toward us.
“Shit,” I said under my breath. I kept my eyes forward.
Shepley squeezed my knee. “It’s okay. Don’t worry.”
“You can take those lips an—” Rich began.
“Sit. The Fuck. Down,” Shepley warned.
I’d only heard him talk so severely to Travis. My breath caught, and a mixture of nerves, surprise, and the distinct feeling of being turned on heated the blood in my cheeks.
“What did you say, motherfucker?” Rich asked, leaning against the bar on the other side of me.
Shepley bristled. “You have three seconds to get away from my girlfriend, or I’m going to knock you the fuck out.”
“Rich!” his friend called. “Get over here!”
Rich leaned in, and Shepley stood, taking a step around my stool, glowering straight into Rich’s eyes.
“Move out of the way, Mare.”
“Shepley …”
Rich snorted. “Mare? Shepley? Are you celebrity kids? What kind of fucking names are those?”
“Walk away,” Shepley said.
I stepped down off my stool and took a few steps back.
“This is your last warning,” Shepley added.
The bartender stood frozen in the kitchen doorway, holding our plates in his hands.
“Shep,” I said, reaching for his arm. I’d never seen him so hostile. “Let’s just go.”
With two of his fingers, Rich tapped Shepley’s shoulder. “What are you going to do, little man? How about I shove my dick in her mouth, and then you’ll have something to be angry about?”
Shepley’s jaw worked under the skin.
“Baby,” I said.
His shoulders relaxed. He pulled out a few bills from his pocket and tossed them onto the bar. He outstretched his arm behind him, reaching for me.
I sidestepped toward the door, encouraging my boyfriend to follow. Shepley began to turn toward me, but Rich reached out, grabbing a fistful of Shepley’s shirt and yanking him back.
Shepley didn’t hesitate. Rich’s eyes grew wide as he saw Shepley coming at him with a raised elbow. A thud sounded when Shepley’s elbow knocked against Rich’s cheekbone. Rich stumbled back, holding the side of his face, and the friend stood, pausing.
“I fucking dare you to jump in,” Shepley growled.
Rich tried to take advantage of Shepley’s momentary distraction and swung. Shepley dodged, and Rich fell forward as he followed through with the motion. I covered my mouth as I was in total disbelief that it was my boyfriend, not Travis, in the middle of a fight. It had been a long time since I saw Travis in the ring of The Circle, and even though he’d calmed down quite a bit since the wedding, Travis would still end up throwing a punch or two if someone pushed him too far.
Shepley was always the peacekeeper, but at the moment, he was landing punches on Rich, hard enough to draw blood. A cut began to bleed just above his right eye.
The bartender reached for the phone right when Shepley reared back his fist and grunted while he swung. Rich spun, doing a one-eighty, and then fell on the floor, bouncing once. He was out cold. The friend watched him from the stool, shaking his head. Rich’s eyes were already beginning to swell shut as he lay there, dazed, on the dirty carpet.
“Baby, let’s go,” I said.
Shepley took a step toward the friend, who jerked back in reaction.
“Shepley Maddox! We’re leaving!”
Shepley looked back at me, huffing. He didn’t have a single mark on his face. He walked past me, taking my hand and pulling me out the door.
Shepley
The Charger’s steering wheel whined as I twisted the wood with both hands. Rain fell from a dark blue sky, assaulting the windshield so loudly that America had to nearly yell over the noise. She was chattering a thousand words a minute, and it was all blurring together. She wasn’t mad but excited. I wasn’t mad. I was feeling unadulterated deep fucking fury. Adrenaline was still pumping through my veins, making my head throb like it was going to explode. That feeling was exactly why I wouldn’t lose my temper. It would leave me feeling sick, out of control, guilty—everything I didn’t want to be.
As the miles passed and we escaped Topeka, America’s voice came into focus.
She reached over to touch my hand. “Baby? Did you hear me? You might want to slow down. The rain is coming down so hard it’s starting to stand on the roads.”
She wasn’t afraid, but I could hear the concern in her voice. My foot lifted half an inch off the gas pedal, and I eased up, releasing the tension from my leg and then the rest of my body.
“Sorry,” I said through my teeth.
America squeezed my hand. “What happened?”
I shrugged. “I lost it.”
“I feel like I’m riding in the car with Travis instead of my boyfriend.”