Page 36 of Unruly

Matt chuckles as he walks up beside her, kissing her cheek. He’s the silent but strong type. Solid in all the ways you need an uncle to be—listening instead of offering advice.

Aria, however, doesn’t buy my bullshit for a second. “Try again. You’ve been distracted since you walked in.”

I hesitate, staring at my hands. Cash floods my brain—the kiss, this afternoon, when he boxed me in …

“I kissed Cash.” The words just fall out. “At Grandpa Ben’s party. A week ago. I’ve been avoiding him ever since, and today, he shows up to help Colt move furniture like nothing happened, and I—” I press my palms into my eyes. “I feel like such an idiot.”

Aria’s eyebrows shoot up, but not in a surprised way. She and Matt exchange a look that makes me feel like this isn’t the first time that we’ve been talked about.

“An idiot for what?” Aria asks, leaning forward on the bar. “Because you kissed him?”

“Yeah …” I admit, slumping against the bar. “I’d had too much to drink, Dad had just gotten in my head about Mom, and Cash was just … there. You know how he is. The only thing dependable about him is that he won’t be. I have enough shit going on without adding that kind of mess to it. But today, when he had me pinned against the counter⁠—”

“Pinned?” Aria cuts in, tone sharpening.

“Not like that. Just close … He called me out on avoiding him. So I told him it wasn’t happening—that there’s nothing here.” I shrug, like it settles it. “Except … I’ve thought about it every day since, which is stupid. Which is—” I shake my head. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

I hang my head, and Aria sighs, reaching across the bar and squeezing my hand. “There’s not a damn thing wrong with you.” Aria doesn’t miss a beat. “Cash could charm the panties off a nun—you’re not the first and you won’t be the last. Doesn’t mean you have to be stupid about it.”

Matt nods in agreement. “For what it’s worth,” Matt says, topping off Aria’s wine, “I’ve never seen that boy sit still for anybody. Make of that what you want.“

“I know,” I say, my voice wavering. “I just hate feeling this way at all. It’s too soon to want or think about someone else. Plus, it’ll just end badly.”

“Right now, you don’t need a rebound with a body count. Especially not one wearing Cash Thornwood’s face.”

Tears threaten at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. “Thanks. Both of you. I don’t know what I would do without this.”

HALLE

For a Friday night, it’s really fucking dragging.

A handful of regulars nurse their beers at the far end, and the jukebox hums low in the corner, some old country track that’s been on repeat since I started my shift, courtesy of Hank who keeps requesting it.

I wipe the same stretch of bar top for the fourth time, the rag moving in lazy circles while my mind refuses to settle.

We’re on day twenty-five since I served the papers, and I don’t know what’s taking him so long to just sign the fucking document. I didn’t ask for anything. The house will be transferred into his name, and there’s no spousal support needed, even though he makes three times what I ever made as a teacher. It’s the simplest divorce any person could hope for.

But he won’t sign the fucking papers.

I slide a fresh beer to Larry at the end without comment and turn away before he can launch into another one of his flirty routines. I don’t have it in me to play games with him.

My phone vibrates again. I’ve had about enough of this bullshit. I duck into the short hallway near the bathrooms where the noise from the main room dulls to a manageable hum and pull it out.

Zach.

Again.

I know I shouldn’t answer.

But some bitter, exhausted part of me hits accept anyway.

“What do you want?” I keep my voice low, flat.

“Halle.” He sounds like he’s been drinking. “Why haven’t you … answered my calls, baby?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy for our marriage?” He hiccups.