Rev smirks. “We were born this way.”
Bri rolls her eyes. “Sure.” She heads toward the kitchen, and her gaze flicks to mine for a split second. It lands like a punch straight to the ribs, and when that half smile tugs at her lips,something in my chest cracks open in a way I don’t want to inspect too closely. Switch lifts an eyebrow, like he’s noticed more than he’ll say, but he stays quiet. Smart man.
I lift my beer and pretend I don’t care while my pulse gives me away. Brianna Calloway is off limits and always has been. She’s younger and practically family and too damn good for someone like me. Me crossing that line wouldn’t just be messy. It would blow everything up. She deserves better than a man who’s lived the life I have. She’s light where I’m not. She laughs easily, and I barely remember how. She believes in a future, and I stopped letting myself imagine one a long time ago.
Even with all that, I keep looking. I keep wanting. And that’s the problem I can’t shake. I can’t stop.
FOUR
BRI
I hearthe rumble of voices before I step fully into the living room, and the sound wraps around me the way it always does in Switch and Bella’s house. Comfort and chaos in equal measure. My heart speeds up when I spot Blade across the room, leaning back in the armchair with a beer in hand, talking quietly with Switch and Rev. The three of them look serious, which is never a good sign, but Blade glances up the exact moment I look his way. Our eyes catch like magnets, and I lift my hand in a quick wave, trying to play it cool even though I instantly regret it because I feel like a teenager again.
He tips his chin in that quiet way he does, barely a nod, but it sends a spark through me all the same. There’s a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, subtle and dangerous, and it flips my stomach in the most annoying way. It’s ridiculous how one tiny shift in his expression can make my insides twist.
I force myself to turn away before I combust or do something embarrassing like walk over and kiss him in front of the entire Iron Reapers inner circle. The kitchen is safer territory, so I move toward it like a woman on a mission. Brooke’s by thewindow with baby Jax bouncing on her hip, looking flawless in a cream sweater and perfect jeans, her hair loose around her shoulders and her delicate jewelry catching the light. As the oldest, she stepped up and held our world together after our parents died. Sometimes I think being thrown into that role so young made her determined to look polished and in control at all times.
“There she is,” Brooke says, spotting me. “Took you long enough.”
“I had to secure the cupcakes,” I say, kissing Jax’s squishy cheek. “Most important job of the night.”
“Absolutely,” Bella agrees, grinning as she pulls a pan of something cheesy and golden from the oven. Her curls are piled on her head, and she’s still got that soft new mom glow, tired at the edges but somehow even more beautiful for it. The kitchen smells incredible, and the warmth from the oven blends with the laughter drifting in from the living room.
I set the bakery box on the counter and let myself pretend, if only for a moment, that everything’s normal. Like my pulse didn’t skip when Blade looked at me. Like I don’t feel his eyes on my back. Like the tension between us isn’t electric enough to burn if either of us ever dared to touch it.
I hug Bella, letting the warmth of her happiness settle under my ribs. She and Switch fought hard for this peace, and seeing her here, safe and loved and glowing, makes it feel worth it. We’ve all been through our own hell, but hers was loud and public and messy. Watching her stand here with a baby on her hip and dinner in the oven feels like winning a battle none of us knew how to fight.
“He’s getting so big,” I murmur, brushing a hand over Jax’s downy hair. “Practically grown.”
“Don’t say that,” Bella laughs. “He’s still my tiny baby boy. Until he starts throwing punches. Then he’s Switch’s problem.”
“Stubborn hits at month two,” Brooke says knowingly, tossing her hair like she’s reciting gospel.
“How would you even know?” I tease, laughing at my dramatic and very childless older sister.
She narrows her eyes. “You forget, young one, I remember when you were born and how much of a crybaby you were.”
“I feel so loved right now,” I grumble, setting the Sugar Rush box down. The logo is a little smudged from my grip, but the cupcakes are safe, thank God, because the men out there turn feral when sugar’s involved.
Bella bumps my shoulder. “We love you. Even if you were dramatic.”
Brooke snorts. “Were?”
I roll my eyes and grab plates from the cupboard, giving myself something to do so I don’t glance back into the living room like a love-struck idiot. I can still feel Blade’s attention, even though I’m not looking. It sits on my skin like a physical touch. Maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I’m not.
Either way, it’s frustrating and addictive.
“So,” Brooke asks casually, which means it’s definitely not casual, “are you staying for the whole evening or do you have hot plans later?”
I lift a brow. “Yes. My wild Saturday night includes lasagna and trying to keep Switch from showing me baby photos I already saw on Facebook.”
“Switch shows everyone baby photos,” Bella says proudly, sliding the pan onto a trivet. “Usually against their will. It’s tradition.”
“And we love him for it,” I add, grabbing a knife. “Mostly. Sometimes.”
“You love him,” Brooke corrects. “I tolerate him.”
We all laugh, and for a moment, the warmth eases the edge of everything else. The club drama. Blade. The gnawing awareness that something in town is shifting. The overdoses Rev mentioned. I don’t know the details, and I’m not sure I want to.
