“You know how there’s shit you can’t talk about because of attorney-client privilege?”
“Yes.”
“Well, there’s things I can’t talk about because it’s club business. There’s shit going on right now that made it impossible for me to call, but I wanted to.”
“What kinds of things?”
“I can’t talk about it. It’s club business.”
I smiled. “But you wanted to.”
“I did.”
“Well, bless your heart,” I crooned.
“Lyric—”
“No, Doom. This is all lip service.” I sighed. “Look, I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but I told you I don’t want a commitment, so I don’t need excuses. But I also will not be spoken to the way you did last week. You’ve apologized, I’ve accepted that apology. It’s all good. But don’t insult my intelligence and lie to me.”
He dragged his hands through his hair. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s been a shit week.”
“At the risk of irritating you more, I know it’s been a shitty week, Doom, because none of the women have seen you.”
“Fuck me.”
“They’re worried about you.”
“So you told them… about us?”
“No!” I rushed to say. “I told you I wouldn’t. You came up naturally in conversation. It was cute, actually, because they kept reminding me who you were when they brought you up. Like, Quin would say, ‘Doom hasn’t slept at the compound all week. Oh, Lyric, Doom is the guy your sister bid on.’ If they had any inkling about us, they didn’t let on.”
He shook his head, looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. I reached out and grabbed his vest, tugging him toward me. “Hey, I’ve got your back. So do those women. I don’t know what’s going on with you, and if you don’t want to disclose, I won’t push you, but I’m here if you need me.”
He relaxed a little. “Thanks, Angel.”
“But seriously, don’t lie to me. I’ll end this faster than a knife fight in a phone booth.”
“That’s fair.”
“Willow said something about you disappearing this time every year.”
“Fuckin’ Willow.” He stiffened again and I squeezed his hand.
“Tell me.”
“Jesus,” he whispered. “My wife died.”
“She did?”
He nodded. “With my son.”
I bit back tears. “What happened?”
That’s when his demeanor kind of… well, shut down.
“Drunk driver. I was on shift and got the call. We arrived on scene and the car was engulfed in flames. I got Ezra out, but Jennifer was DOA. Ezra died two days later. That was ten years ago. Tuesday was the anniversary.”
“And it’s why you quit being a firefighter?”
