Hold Me Close - Talia Hibbert Page 0,75

pinned to the town’s live melodrama.

Let them watch.

Across the table, Hannah put down her gin and tonic with a sigh. “Look,” she said. “I don’t know if you can tell, but Ruth doesn’t want to talk to you. And I certainly don’t want to.”

Daniel’s flush deepened, until his cheeks were almost as red as his hair. “Is that what you’ve told her, Ruth?” he demanded. “That you don’t want to talk to me?”

Ruth frowned. “I don’t want to talk to you. Why the hell would I?”

His mouth worked for a moment, his nostrils flaring, before he stepped closer. He leaned over the table as if wanting privacy, but when he spoke, his words were embarrassingly loud.

“I know you told me to stop,” he said. “But that’s what you said before! And I kept trying. I waited—”

“This isn’t like before,” Ruth clipped out, awful understanding washing over her. “We were kids. It was pathetic. But I’m not playing hard to get right now, Daniel. I don’t want you to convince me. I want to be left alone.”

Without warning, Daniel slammed a hand against the table, knocking over her drink.

She heard the scrape of multiple chairs as people rose to their feet, heard voices overlap.

“Come on, now, mate—”

“Calm down—”

“Just leave her be—”

Ruth wasn’t paying attention to any of it. She wasn’t even paying attention to the slow drip of liquid spilling from the table’s edge onto her legs. Instead, she sought out Evan, found he and Zach both on their feet, and glared. Hard.

Don’t you dare come over here.

Evan glared right back. You can’t be serious.

She mouthed, clear as day, “Sit.”

He stared at her for a moment, his chest heaving. Then, slowly, he sat.

Relieved, Ruth turned back to Daniel. His friends had hold of him now. One man gripped his shoulder firmly, murmuring soothing words. Another grasped Daniel’s wrist, stilling his right hand, speaking sharply under his breath.

Daniel pulled away and muttered, “I’m fine. I’m fine.” Then he narrowed his eyes at Ruth and spat, “You think I don’t know your latest victim is in here? Watching you like a lapdog?”

Ruth arched a brow, unimpressed. Daniel had always had a way with words, and with metal, and not much else. “I’m assuming you mean Evan,” she said. “My boyfriend.”

Daniel spluttered. “Boyfriend?”

“Yes. It means a man with whom I am in a committed relationship. It’s kind of like how Laura is your wife, only without the legal aspect.”

“You’re jealous,” Daniel accused. “You’re jealous, and it’s petty.”

“I’m tired,” Ruth corrected. She wouldn’t bother pointing out the irony of his words, because he’d never realise it. He’d said them to her years ago, over the phone, when he’d told her about the engagement—casual as anything—and she’d told him to go to hell.

God, this man was exhausting.

“I’m tired of you,” she repeated. “I’m tired of your gifts. I’m tired of your insults. I’m tired of your pathetic, teenage attempts to hold power over me, and I’m tired of telling you no. If you don’t leave me alone…” She took in a deep breath and felt Hannah’s foot nudge hers beneath the table. A reminder. I’m here.

Everyone was here. The pub’s occupants stared openly now, straining to hear every word. Let them.

Clearing her throat, Ruth said loudly, “If you don’t leave me alone, I will report you to the police for harassment. For—for stalking.”

Daniel clenched his jaw, rising up to his full height despite the fact that he was swaying on his feet. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”

Ruth couldn’t bite back her astonished laughter. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I? You pressed charges against my sister.”

“She destroyed my Porsche,” he replied, painfully serious. “What the fuck was I supposed to do? That was a vintage 911, Ruth!”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” she snapped. “Shut up about the fucking car. I am asking you, nicely, to leave me alone. Stop embarrassing yourself.”

Daniel straightened up, his jaw tight, his eyes flicking around the pub. Apparently for the first time, he realised that almost every patron was staring at their little table. She saw the gleam of sweat on his pale brow before he adjusted the cuffs of his designer shirt.

Then, turning on his heel, he barked at his friends, “Come.” Without waiting for their response, he strode off toward the door.

For a moment, the men he’d come in with stared after him in shock. Then, one by one, like trickles of water, they trailed out after him.

The last, a tall, dark man Ruth only vaguely recognised, paused. He nodded at

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