my purse off the hook by the door. “Where are we going?” I ask, as I step into the corridor and close the door.
His lips quirk into a smile. “You’ll see.” He holds out his hand, and when I take it, he squeezes and pulls me close. He lowers his mouth to hover over mine and whispers, “Unless you don’t want to go anywhere. We’d have your apartment to ourselves. I could be persuaded to spend the night in.”
I can’t let my conversation with Arrow ruin tonight, so I force a smile. “I want to know what you’ve been planning.”
“Feel like singing tonight?”
I take a breath. “Yeah. That sounds great.”
* * *
I close my eyes as Brogan leads me around the dance floor. I want to be present in this moment, and I’m failing.
He put so much thought into tonight. He drove us to Indianapolis and we had dinner downtown, and then he took me to a bar down the street with an open mic and a busy dance floor. We ate, we danced, and I sang—pouring all my heartache from my earlier conversation with Arrow into my favorite ballads. Every detail was planned for my benefit, and I can’t stop thinking about Arrow. Should I call him? Text? Apologize?
What exactly would I be apologizing for? My mother’s decisions? My decision not to tell him when I first found out? Or would I be apologizing for letting him fall in love with me? For wanting it, despite myself?
Brogan pulls back and frowns. “What’s wrong? You’re upset about something.”
I swallow hard. “Arrow came to my apartment earlier. I’m sorry. I won’t—”
“Arrow?” His frown turns into a snarl. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I step back. There’s so much anger in his voice and face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this before. It scares me a little.
“Jesus, Mia. Nothing happened. Arrow’s overreacting.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know Trish. She likes to make a scene. Arrow had the wrong idea.”
I step out of his arms. “Trish?” I don’t have to add the one I caught sucking your dick, because that’s all right there in the way I say her name.
“What did he tell you? Jesus, I swear, I was ending it with her. Cutting it off. I love you, and I couldn’t—”
“I thought you said nothing happened.”
“Nothing that meant anything.” He grimaces. “I’m making a mess of this.”
I stare at him, but all I can think is that this should hurt more than it does. Finding out that my boyfriend cheated on me today should hurt more than Arrow’s anger about our parents. But the ache of this revelation feels a lot more like a bruised ego than a broken heart.
“Say something,” he whispers.
“I want to go home.”
“No, come on. Let’s stay and have a good time. I want to hear you sing again.”
I shake my head, grab my purse from the table, and head to the car. He takes so long to join me that I’m heading back toward the building when he finally emerges from the restaurant and hits the button for the automatic locks. I climb into the car the second the locks click.
“If you aren’t okay to drive, I will,” I say when he gets into the driver’s seat.
“I’m fine.” He jams the key into the ignition, and the silence between us is angry and tense as he drives back to Blackhawk Valley. At first, I think it’s gonna be okay. He’s hurt, and I’m mad, but he’s gonna take me home and this horrible night will be over. But then his driving becomes more erratic, and as we reach the hills at the edge of the city, he swerves every time a car comes toward us in the other lane.
The gray sky opens and sleet covers the windshield, and the next time he swerves, a tire slips off the side of the road, making us fishtail.
“Brogan, pull over,” I say, gripping the dash. “Jesus, are you drunk?” I look over and know it’s true. His cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are glassy. He only had a couple of glasses of wine at the restaurant. “Is that what you were doing while I was waiting for you to come out to the car?” I ask. “You were in there drinking? Do you want to kill me?”
He yanks the wheel and pulls off the shoulder before throwing the car in park. “No, I don’t want to kill you, Mia. I was having a couple of drinks and