Page 77 of Go Back to December

I fall back against Baz.

Specifically, against Baz’s lap.

More specifically, against the particular part of Baz’s lap that’s rock hard beneath me.

His arm clamps around my waist.

“Steady.” He gasps.

“I’m hurting you.”

“You will if you leave.”

I follow his orders, staying perfectly still while his body presses up close to me. His arm circles my waist, refusing to cede an inch, even as Alicia catches sight of us and frowns. With all of this, Luiza has to be appeased.

At least, she would be if she were sitting at the table.

I scramble out of Baz’s grip. “Where’s your sister?”

Baz turns the scowl aimed at me to the empty chair.

“Luiza? She went upstairs.” Alicia nods at the staircase leading to the second-floor bar.

Baz roars Dooley’s name and elevator and I’m going to shred her in a million pieces.

He fumbles for his crutches, spitting and whirling like the Tasmanian Devil, and Alicia purses her lips, trying to hide her horror at Baz’s instant transformation from Jekyll to Hyde.

“I’ll go after Luiza,” I tell Dooley. “You keep Baz calm.”

Dooley utters a hysterical laugh as he wields his big frame to blockade Baz. I skirt the tables and fly up the steps, two at a time.

The upstairs bar is heaving with people. I push through to a group of girls who look too young to drink legally, but Luiza is not among them.

Then a raucous holler rises from the corner. A crew of guys sporting military haircuts forms a cozy circle surrounding Luiza. One of them reaches to pass her a beer.

I intervene before she can get a grasp on the bottle.

Her glare would burn a hole in the Artic. “Step off, Karen.”

“Is there a problem?” the shortest guy in the pack asks.

“She doesn’t have ID,” I say.

He lifts a shoulder. “Didn’t ask. Didn’t tell.”

I hand him the beer. “Well, her brother is coming up here to take decisive action on someone’s ass.”

“No,” Luiza counters. “He’s too busy entertaining Alicia Fucking Leary!”

Gauntlet thrown. Either I act like I know what happened between Baz and Alicia, or people will get hurt.

“You’re pissed at Baz, I get it,” I say. “It’s a big deal you dropped by, and he ignored you. We were all caught off-guard when Alicia showed up, especially him. You know how much he hates surprises.”

The service elevator next to the bar pings, and Baz charges through the crowd, which is obnoxiously slow to clear the way for a guy with crutches. Behind him, Dooley hovers by the elevator and flails his arms.

“Go with Dooley,” I insist. “So I can talk Baz down.”

“Not until he apologizes.” Luiza clenches her jaw, so like her brother, fighting to keep control.