Chapter Twenty-Six
SEBASTIAN
“You look like shit.”
Easton glances at me standing on the edge of the booth before throwing back the glass he’d been nursing.
No return insult?
Sliding into the booth across from him, I take a moment to study him. His scowl is present as always, though it never usually seems to be as harsh when it’s just the two of us. His dark hair looks like he’s been running his hands through it nonstop, and dark circles shadow his green eyes.
Within a minute of sitting down, someone comes over to take our drink order, and my gaze sweeps the room. When Easton wasn’t answering his phone and wasn’t at his place, I figured this was where I’d find him. With black marble-like flooring and gold accents, the sizable VIP bar at Obsidian follows much of the same flow as the main club, except everything in here is a step up—from the quilted leather booths to the selection of alcohol.
It isn’t a regular VIP area. This bar is exclusive and completely detached from the main club. This place is for the rich and powerful, though they don’t always sit on the same side of the law. And from a glance around at who is in tonight, I’d say most of the guests fall in the morally grey category if they have morals at all.
Bringing my attention back to Easton, I frown at what I see. Shit, he’s a hardass most of the time, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this undone. As my feelings for Grace grow, I’ve been struggling with how to figure things out with Easton. I’ve hardly seen Easton in the last couple of weeks, most of our conversations being over the phone.
After my conversation with Grace last week, I decided it was time to try. Grace had gone to Lauren’s for dinner tonight, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity. I didn’t expect to find him like this, though.
“Have you been sleeping?” I ask, genuinely concerned about him. What happened with Grace and the warehouse might have put a lot of fucking strain on our friendship, but I still care about him. He’s like a brother to me. Family. And he always would be.
“So… You and the girl, huh?” he asks, ignoring my question, and I clench my teeth. Another argument isn’t going to do anything but drive us further apart.
“Her name is Grace,” I say, fed up with his bullshit, but all he does is let out a humourless laugh. “What the hell is your problem, Easton?”
“You know what my problem is.” He scowls.
“I get it that you don’t trust her, but you don’t know the whole story,” I grit out.
“And you do?” he asks, but he’s not mocking me—he’s asking for real, and I find myself pausing at the question.
“Didn’t think so,” he says, turning away from me. I know enough to know she’s a good fucking person, and right now, that’s all that matters to me.
Our drinks arrive, and Easton wastes no time knocking back the whole thing in one go before ordering another.How much has he had to drink?
“What do you want me to do, Easton? I—”Fuck, what the hell am I trying to say.
“Love her?” he asks.
No, that’s not right. I couldn’t be in love. Could I?But even as I ask myself the question, I already know the answer deep down.
He nods at whatever he sees in my expression, and his brows pull together, low over his eyes. He doesn’t seem surprised. If anything, he looks pained.
What the hell is going on with him?
“What’s going on?” I ask him, hating how far apart we’ve grown in such a short amount of time. Is his distrust of Grace so bad that he’d risk throwing away our whole friendship?
Easton looks up at me, and for a moment, I think he might actually say something.Give me something.Then he shakes his head, and my hope deflates. “I have to get back to work,” he says, standing from the bar.
“You’re drunk,” I say. Not to mention it’s a Saturday night. Easton might be as much of a workaholic as I am, but something’s clearly going on.
“Good, then I won’t have to think,” he grits out before walking away, leaving the bar without looking back.
Fuck.
So much for working things out.
As I’m walking out of Obsidian, my phone rings in my pocket, and I pull it out to see Grace’s name flashing on the screen. “Hey,” I say, answering the call. “Are you ready?”