Instead, I see a heavy exhale leave her shoulders before she pivots back around to look at me.
“Give us a minute,” she conveys to the guys, blue eyes locked on me.
They appear exhausted and a bit wary. I bet the pregnancy is taking a toll on her, and I want with everything in me to be there for her at all hours of the day.
But I know when to push Bay and when to stand down.
This isn’t one of them.
Not yet, anyway.
Hot Rod and Juice saunter a bit away, permitting Bay to come closer. Ozzy steps off as well, giving us some privacy, which also surprises me.
I thought he’d be on top of her like white on rice, but here we are.
She and I again.
Except different.
“What did you want to talk about?” she asks quietly, folding her hands together patiently.
I can’t seem to fully gather up the words. All I want to do is hold her and tell her again that I’m sorry. That I’ll forever protect her like I said before, but those words are dead and gone.
I betrayed her.
There’s no other way to put it.
“I need an open line of communication with you,” I manage to get out. “I have a feeling Rod and Juice are going to ignore me.”
“What could you possibly need that would involve me in it?”
“I don’t know how to run this?—”
“You just need to stand here and look pretty,” she cuts in flatly. “You can do that, right?”
“Wildfire,” I grind out. “I don’t know what your play is, but if this was your way of getting me killed, it worked.”
She looks heavenward, then back at me. “You’re still upright, aren’t you?”
“For now.”
“No one here is going tooffyou, Pretty Boy. You have my word.”
And that should be it.
But it still doesn’t make sense.
“Why did you put me here? Why didn’t you pick Oz?”
She lifts her shoulders. “I dunno. You seem to have the prick thing going on. It seemed fitting.”
“He’s your husband.”
“And I didn’t want him to be uncomfortable.” She bows her head to me. “You, on the other hand, I don’t mind.”
I can’t help the lift of my lips because it’s well-played. I’m surrounded by a town that doesn’t like me and it’s going to keep my fucking ass in line at all times. Always on the lookout for someone to take their shot at my head.
“Well played,” I emit. “So, I’m your prisoner.”
