I looked at her then. Really looked.
She wasn’t a bad woman. She was just wrong. Wrong time. Wrong reason. Wrong everything.
“Not right now,” I said, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.
She studied my face like she might argue, then sighed, rollin’ her eyes. “You’re a mess, Chain.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Guess I am.”
She pulled back, straightenin’ her shirt, disappointment already slidin’ into indifference. “You’ll get over her,” she said. “It just takes time. And when you finally need a little lovin’, I’ll be here.”
“Yeah,” I said, not believin’ a damn word of it.
We walked back toward the clubhouse, Sugar still doin’ her best to distract me. I didn’t look over my shoulder. Didn’t care who saw. Let ’em talk.
Inside, the noise swallowed us whole. My head pounded. My chest felt tight. Whatever anger I’d been runnin’ on bled out, leavin’ behind somethin’ worse.
Emptiness.
Gatsby caught me near the door. “Briar was lookin’ for you earlier.”
That stopped me. Just for a second.
“Why?” I asked. Briar hadn’t been comin’ around the clubhouse for years. She didn’t just show up.
He shrugged. “Hell if I know. She waited a bit, then left.”
Of course she did.
Briar didn’t have much patience for anythin’, especially grown men makin’ a mess of things. I nodded once and moved past him, lettin’ that slip easy into the version of events I’d already decided on.
Lark didn’t come back.
Whatever chance there was to talk it out had already passed.
I poured myself another drink and stared into the amber, like it might hold answers instead of just reflections I didn’t want to see. The truth was, I’d never wanted anyone the way I wanted her—and still did.
And that was the part I couldn’t drink away.
***
I WAS STILLsittin’ there when Devil found me.
Same stool. Same half-empty glass. Same stretch of bar that had gone quiet enough to hear the buzz of the lights overhead. The amber stared back at me like a dare I didn’t have the energy to take.
I hadn’t moved. Hadn’t thought much either. Just sat there, lettin’ the ache settle where the anger used to be.
Devil didn’t say my name right away. He came up beside me and leaned a hip against the bar, close enough I could feel him there without lookin’. That was his tell. When he was quiet first, it meant whatever came next wasn’t optional.
“Ash called,” he said finally.
I didn’t react. Didn’t lift my head. Didn’t reach for the glass either.
“Good for him,” I muttered.
Devil’s gaze stayed forward. “He’s got information.”
That got me to blink. “About what?” I asked, my voice rough, scraped thin.
