His chest rises and falls in hard bursts, the sour scent of beer rolling off him. His pupils are blown, fury mixing with something else. Something hollow. Something broken. My mind flickers to Candace again at how hard she’s been working to keep their life from completely unraveling.
Is this the man she’s trying so fiercely to protect?
My gut twists. She’d burn herself to ash before asking for help.
“You can either follow me to the table and tell me what the hell is going on, or you can go home.”Please, for once, pick the path that doesn’t tear her apart.
For a second, he doesn’t move. His body vibrates with tension. I brace myself, ready for another fight, until his gaze flicks around the room. He finally sees what I do. The stares and judgment. The disappointment etched into the faces of men he calls brothers, men who used to look up to him.
His jaw clenches. Then, without a word, he shoves me away and storms toward the exit, the heavy metal door banging shut behind him with a resounding clang that echoes in the silence.
I exhale sharply, dragging a hand down the back of my neck, the muscles tight with frustration. James meets my gaze, his own lined with something unreadable. I know what he’s thinking. Chuck’s meltdown is spiraling out of control, dragging Candace along for the ride, whether she wants it or not.
Turning to Nash, I jerk my chin toward the door. “Take him home. He doesn’t need to be driving. If he fights you on it, knock his ass out.”
Nash gives a solemn nod, then follows Chuck out. The tension lingers, a ghost refusing to leave, drifting through the club on a cold draft. East, ever the opportunist, slides off his barstool, an easy grin spreading across his face.
“Alright,” he drawls, stretching his arms behind his head. “Who wants to stand in front of the dartboard and let me throw darts at them?”
Laughter ripples through the club, just like that, the moment snapping back into something resembling normal. But it doesn’t sit right. Not with me. My gut churns with unresolved anger and a pang of concern for Candace, who’s probably at home cleaning up his mess without a single complaint.
Knox and I move to flank James, motioning for Kyle to come over. He does, shoulders still tense, the shadows of frustration flickering in his eyes.
“What happened?” I ask, keeping my voice steady.
Kyle exhales heavily, rubbing his forehead. “He asked for a pitcher. I told him he had to pay up front before I could serve him. He was already tipsy, but he slapped a twenty on the bar, so I poured it. By the time he finished, he wanted another. When I told him he didn’t have enough, he lost it. Kept yelling about how a pitcher was ten bucks and he was a patched member, not some damn prospect.” His jaw tightens. “Just kept getting more volatile from there.”
James nods grimly. “Kyle, you handled it exactly how you should’ve. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Kyle relaxes a fraction, then heads back to the bar. I motion to Knox and James, then we make our way to the meeting room, settling into our usual spots around the scarred wooden table. A few minutes later, East strolls in, his grin notably absent as he closes the door behind him.
James leans forward, elbows on the table. “I’ve been trying to talk to him these past few weeks, but he keeps brushing me off. Same story, over and over. Him and his daughter are struggling.”
East shares a look with me. “Dues are coming up, but he hasn’t said anything about not being able to pay.”
Knox scoffs. “If he can’t afford his beer, he sure as hell can’t afford his dues.”
I lean back, tension gnawing at my ribs. “Candace has been avoiding me. I even went to the country club to see her. She handed me off to another server without a second glance. The other night, she came to my fight, then paid off his tab and his dues. First time I’ve ever seen her there. She bet on the fight, won some cash. I’m guessing she did it to bail him out.”
Knox’s eyes narrow. East frowns. Neither of them like that I kept this from them. Guilt prods me, but I shove it aside. I was trying to protect Candace’s pride, if nothing else, and she’s made it painfully clear she doesn’t want my help.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I say, “I wasn’t keeping it from you intentionally. I was trying to get her story. But she won’t talk to me. She’s shutting me out. I wanted to get more before I brought it up.”
Silence settles, thick and expectant.
Then Knox drums his fingers on the table. “We should have a family lunch next weekend. Get Candace here. We need to handle this.”
I nod slowly. I don’t think she’ll like it, but maybe it’s the only way to get through. If she wants to pretend she hates me, so be it, but I can’t let Chuck drag her under without a fight.
“East, let Nash know. I’m calling it a night. Got the gym early.”
The weight of it all lingers as I push up from my chair, exhaustion pressing down. But sleep won’t come easy. Not tonight. There’s an ache between my shoulders that no amount of stretching will fix, a restlessness in my chest that demands resolution.
Ifeeleverybitthe fucking stalker as I take another slow loop around Candace’s block. But guilt, worry, and this relentless ache in my gut keep me circling her neighborhood. The steady rumble of my bike fills the empty streets, vibrating under me, grounding me, but doing nothing to settle the war raging in my head.
She got home an hour ago from work. James says she’s been avoiding his calls all week.
I picture her tough exterior, that fire in her eyes when she told me off last time. A grin tugs at the corner of my mouth, unbidden—equal parts amusement and longing. She’s a hurricane in combat boots and I can’t stop chasing the storm.
