For one quick second, I remember the past, the constant aching over Trevor. Then I imagine a long, sad future of constantly pining for Trevor. Of never feeling loved. Of sick jealousy over Jazz. Oh, hell no. That won’t be my future. I jerk back from his hold and brace myself.
“We are divorced,” I repeat, trying to pull away from him. “Let me go. Now.”
His grip grows tighter. “What’s going on with you and this guy?”
“Let me go,” I say under my breath, noticing people watching us.
“Are you fucking him?”
“Now,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Are you?” he says, shaking me.
His shaking me hits a major nerve. “Screw you! I’ll fuck whoever I want! Let me go!”
Fury fills his face, and he lets me go with a shove that sends me colliding with a nearby table. Unfortunately, it isn’t empty. Drinks fly and crash onto the floor when the table nearly tips. The people at the table jump up, yelling, “What the hell?”
I’m finding my footing as Justin gently helps me upright and searches my gaze. “You okay?”
Before I can answer, Trevor whips him around. “Don’t touch her!”
“Why? So you can push her again?” Justin’s expression is furious as he shoves Trevor.
Trevor’s mouth twists as he stumbles backward. “Fuck that,” he snarls. He lunges forward and punches Justin in the jaw.
Justin’s head snaps back, but his feet stay planted. He whips his head around, his gaze livid, as Trevor raises both fists in an aggressive stance. Justin takes a quick step back, and punches Trevor in the middle of his face before he can lift a fist. Jaw slack and eyes wide, Trevor staggers against the wall and slides to the floor.
Things are moving fast. Yet it feels like I’m watching a fight through a lens in slow motion.
Scrambling up from the floor, Trevor bull-rushes Justin, who ducks just in time to jab Trevor in the ribs.
People crowd around us—some screaming, some yelling, and some cheering. Their voices reverberate in my head as I move forward, intent on pulling Justin away from Trevor’s reach, not caring that I’ll end up in the middle of their fight.
As I reach for Justin, Gabe flies out of the crowd at Trevor, who cuffs him in the side of the head. The punch does nothing to stop Gabe. Fists flying, he beats Trevor to the ground. Even amid the shouting around us, I can hear Gabe repeating, “Men don’t fuck with girls. Men don’t fuck with girls. Men don’t fuck with girls.”
Strangely—or maybe not so strangely since it’s obvious that Gabe is in a rage—both Justin and I work at dragging him off Trevor. After nearly getting pulverized by Gabe’s elbows, we finally have him standing between us. He’s breathing hard, eyes still murderously trained on Trevor, who’s rolling across the floor and covering his face.
Gabe tears from our hold and lunges again, but Justin yanks him back by the waist. “Whoa, he’s down. Leave him be.”
The music in the bar is suddenly cut off.
Romeo breaks through the crowd. “What the hell is going on?”
“He”—Gabe points a shaky finger at Trevor, who’s sluggishly pushing himself up off the floor—“pushed her into a table.”
With rage etching his features, Romeo is obviously about to lay into Gabe with an embarrassing reprimand, but some guy dressed in a button-up shirt and pressed slacks breaks through the crowd around us. A nametag on his chest and the ring of keys on his belt loop signifies he works here. He holds a hand out to help Trevor up. “Back off, people!” Supporting Trevor, who’s swaying as if drunk and cupping his bloody nose, the guy yells, “Get away or get out!”
People start dispersing. Justin tugs Gabe away from the scene.
The man helping Trevor points to us. “You two, stay put. The cops are on their way.”
“The cops?” Gabe gasps, finally pulling his rage-filled gaze from Trevor and struggling to get out of our grip.
Romeo is instantly in Gabe’s face. “Don’t even think of taking off,” he says from behind clenched teeth.
Gabe visibly deflates, and Justin lets him go and wraps his arms around me.
“Tell me you’re okay?” he whispers in my ear.
“I’m all right,” I say into the skin of his neck, breathing in his earthy, comforting scent. “Your jaw?”
“A little sore, but forget me. When I saw that prick push you I feared the worst.”
“I’m all right,” I repeat, though the side of my thigh is throbbing where it hit the table. A bruise will definitely be there in the morning. “Just shook up and shocked. He’s never been like this.” I can’t tell if Justin believes me, but it’s true. Sure, Trevor has always been a jerk, but he’s never gotten physical with me. Something was off about him tonight, though, and I’d been close enough to him to know he wasn’t drunk.
Justin’s arms tighten around me. “I almost wish we’d let Gabe continue.”
Shaking my head, I hold on to him and let his embrace calm me down. Holly is suddenly next to us. “I can’t believe this. He pushed you?”
I can only nod at her.
She sneers at Trevor, who still appears out of it.
Behind us, we can hear Romeo lecturing Gabe. “Three years of playing and this is the first time this type of shit has happened. This shit is never happening again, do you hear me?”
As Justin turns and holds me close by one arm, Gabe mutters something under his breath but keeps his head lowered. I notice the group from our back room table standing at a distance and watching the aftermath unfold. A few tables over, the man I assume is the manager has Trevor in a chair and is crouched in front of him, holding a towelful of ice to his bloody nose. The sight irritates me. Even though Gabe went overboard, Trevor is not the victim here.
Romeo keeps bitching at Gabe. Now he’s talking about losing the club.
Justin shoots Romeo a cold look and says, “Honestly? This isn’t the time to be an asshole.”
Romeo stares at Justin with eyes that flash daggers.
I’m starting to feel awful. If I hadn’t come, none of this would have happened. I’m aware the guilt isn’t entirely mine, but I can imagine the rumors that will spread over the next week: The singer and drummer of Luminescent Juliet got into a bar fight over one of their girlfriends. The thought makes me cringe.
As the guys continue to argue around me, my gaze finds the instigator of the evening’s fiasco. The manager tries to help Trevor up, but he brushes off the man’s hands and heads toward the bathroom. The manager then comes to stand by us, probably hoping to stop anything else from erupting, Trevor turns back and his hostile gaze finds me. I don’t flinch. Instead, I stare right back until he disappears into the bathroom.
A few minutes later, the police arrive. My shock over the fight escalates when, after talking with the manager and several bystanders, the two policemen cuff and arrest both Justin and Gabe. Justin looks shocked too. Gabe’s face is impassive. Startled, I’m at the policeman’s side in an instant.
“They didn’t start it.” I’ve already told them this, but I have to do something before they haul off Justin. “My ex-husband was the first one to throw a punch.”
The cop glances at me. “This isn’t elementary school, miss. If someone hits you, it doesn’t give you the right to beat them senseless.”
My hands clench at my sides. “He kept the fight going, after he shoved me into a table and almost knocking it over.” I’ve already told him this too.
The cop directs Justin toward the door. “You can post his bail tomorrow morning. After that, it’s for the judge to determine who, if anyone, was in the right.”