“What’s going on?” Gatsby’s voice cut in from the doorway, sharp and wary.
I didn’t look away from Roxanne. “Get her out,” I snarled. “Now. Before I do somethin’ I swore I never would.”
She scrambled to her feet, grabbin’ her bra without botherin’ to put it on. “Go on,” she hissed as she brushed past me. “Pretend you’re not exactly what folks say you are. Women in this town know better.”
I walked past her like she didn’t exist.
Out into the noise of the bar.
Lark was already behind the counter, movin’ on autopilot. Pourin’ drinks. Smilin’ when spoken to. Mechanical and precise, like she’d shoved everything she felt into a locked box and buried it deep.
I crossed the room in long strides and caught her arm. “Lark. Roxanne set that up. It’s not what it looked like.”
She didn’t flinch. Just turned those calm, unreadable eyes on me. “You don’t owe me an explanation,” she said evenly. “We haven’t defined anything. I don’t get to be mad.”
“Don’t do that,” I murmured. “Don’t shut down on me.”
She exhaled slow, gaze drifting to the bottles behind the bar like I was just another customer. “I hear what people say about you, Chain. About the women. They come in here loud on purpose, hoping you’ll notice.”
A beat.
“I’ve been preparing myself for this.”
“For what?” I asked quietly.
“For you moving on.”
I reached for her chin, forced her to look at me. “I got a past. I’m not denyin’ it. But don’t stand there and pretend you don’t know how I feel about you.”
“I’m not pretending,” she said simply.
Then she stepped away, grabbin’ a bar towel. “I’ve got tables to check. Ruby’s giving me a ride tonight.”
She walked off with her spine straight and her walls higher than I’d ever seen ’em.
I let her go.
Not because I wanted to.
But because I knew I couldn’t reach her here. Not with eyes watchin’. Not with Roxanne’s poison still hangin’ in the air.
This wasn’t over.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
I DIDN’T KNOWhow I made it through the rest of myshift. Every drink I poured, every fake smile I forced, felt like a thread unraveling. My hands shook so bad behind the bar I had to steady them against the counter more than once. Pretending my heart wasn’t breaking into a million pieces took everything I had left.
I told myself I’d been prepared for this moment, that deep down I’d expected it, Chain going back to his old habits. But that was a lie I’d built to survive, and tonight it crumbled easy as ash.
I knew Roxanne hated me. Knew she wanted Chain for herself. Hell, half the bar probably knew it. And I knew they’d been together before; Ruby told me weeks ago, swearing up anddown it was nothing, that he didn’t look at Roxanne that way anymore. But the image of her—naked, in his office—was a blade I couldn’t pull free.
“Lark,” Ruby said softly as we drove back to the clubhouse, headlights cutting through the long stretch of dark road. “I don’t think he was lyin’ about Roxanne.”
“She was naked,” I said, my voice flat, eyes fixed on the passing trees. “Why would he let her be in his office naked?”
“Roxanne’s a spiteful bitch,” Ruby muttered. “She probably thought she could tempt him, make you jealous. Instead she got herself fired.”
I turned toward her. “He fired her?”
