He studied her. There was no fire in her voice—just a quiet conviction that bordered on grief. She didn’t believe she deserved it.
“You still taking online classes?”
“Yes. It’s slow going. They aren’t cheap.”
“Use some of the money to pay for them. Buy a newer car. Go places.” He watched her eyes drift toward the floor. “I give you permission, Brandi. Spend the money.”
She shrugged. The weight of her guilt sat heavy across her shoulders, an invisible chain she hadn’t yet shaken off.
“You still blaming yourself for Wick’s accident?”
She flinched. There it was.
“Wick has moved on. He’s happily married to Sloan. He wishes you the best. Don’t let his kindness be wasted.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Want me to hold on to the money for you?”
“Yes, please.”
Gypsy reached into the bag and pulled out a stack of bills, thick and neatly wrapped in a rubber band. He didn’t count it. Didn’t care how much it was.
“Take this. Spend it however you see fit.”
Brandi hesitated. Then, with a sigh, she took the money and tucked it into her purse. Her fingers lingered on the zipper before she closed it—it felt like stuffing away a piece of her shame.
“Can I grab dinner here?” she asked, voice smaller now.
Gypsy blinked. It caught him off guard, her asking permission.
He wanted to ask where she and Tool stood, but Mercury’s voice rang in his head:You’re nosey.“How about we grab a table and eat lunch together?”
Her smile was quiet but real. Some of the tension slipped from her shoulders as she stood and followed him out. Back in the main room, the atmosphere hit Brandi all over again—music, heat, laughter, the scrape of chairs and the occasional clatter of pool balls. The scent of charred meat and fried onions wafted from the kitchen, mixing with the sharp tang of beer and the soft sweetness of whatever Vega had just poured.
Gypsy led her to the round table by the fireplace—the one she’d only ever seen from a distance. The brothers’ table.
She hesitated for a second before sliding into the seat beside him, the aged leather cool beneath her palms. Her heartthudded. Not from nerves, exactly. Just... the unfamiliarity of it. Of being seen like this.
A few heads turned. No words. Just flicks of attention and flickers of unreadable expressions before they looked away.
Moments later, two more figures approached.
Killer dropped into the chair across from Brandi, his usual scowl replaced with something closer to a smirk. The toothpick shifted in his mouth as he gave her a once-over.
“Well, look who’s back on two feet,” he said, voice gruff but warm.
Brandi smiled, some of the tension in her chest easing. “Took long enough.”
“You still favoring it?” he asked, nodding toward her ankle.
“Not as much.”
“Good.” He leaned back, arms crossing loosely over his chest. “You eat yet?”
She shook her head. “Just sat down.”
Killer gave a small grunt that sounded like approval and flagged down a waitress with a flick of his fingers.
