“Break,” I say, leaning over the table.
I take the shot harder than I need to, the crack echoing through the bar as the balls scatter. Two sink.
“Nice,” Cabe says.
We play in silence for a few rounds, the noise of the bar pulsing around us. Every now and then, I feel someone looking at me—Charli and Harleigh.
“You love her?” Cabe asks suddenly, lining up his shot.
I snort. “It’s a little early for that question. Don’t you think?”
He sinks a ball without looking at me. “Or late.”
“Doesn’t matter anyway,” I mumble.
He leans against his pool stick, staring at me. “Don’t bullshit me. You’re a goner. Or at least, you’re halfway there, which might be worse.”
“Even if I do, she’s done,” I say.
Cabe straightens, studying me. “You think one mistake means you’re done?”
“One mistake?” I laugh, blowing out a breath. “Try a dozen of ’em.”
“Still doesn’t mean she’s done with you.”
I shake my head. “She doesn’t see it that way.”
“Then make her see it.”
“You didn’t see her face, Cabe. The way she looked at me when she saw Cheyenne. Like I’d gutted her.”
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Well, Shelby doesn’t make a habit of letting herself be gutted by people she’s done with.”
“You’re starting to sound like my old man,” I tell him as I sink another ball.
“God help me.”
We finish the game, Cabe pulling off the win.
I’m okay with it. But what I’m not okay with is Dixon winning.
Not because he’s a bad guy, but because he’s not.
Because if Shelby chooses him, she’ll be making the safe choice.
The wrong choice.
“We’re next.”
I look up to see Charli and Harleigh with cue sticks in their hands.
“Rack ’em up, boys.”
“I’m not sure I’m up for another game,” I say, draining the bottle in my hand. “I should probably head home.”
“Oh no, you don’t, cowboy,” Harleigh says. “You’re gonna stay and take your ass-kicking like a man.”
I groan as I take the plastic triangle dangling from her fingertip.
