But when the group started breaking up, when Brandi turned to head inside, he moved.
Stepped out of the dark and fell into step beside her like it was the most natural thing in the world. She didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to.
She just smiled—a small, private thing—and handed him her empty cup to toss as they headed for the food inside.
A simple moment. A stupid, simple moment. But it had stuck with him.
Burrowed under his skin and never left.
He’d thought about it that night. About taking her home. Wrapping her up in his arms so they could finally enjoy one another, no more guessing, no more games. Make what they both wanted real.
But Frisco had gone into labor, and everything had gone sideways fast.
The night had shattered into chaos—brothers scrambling, plans abandoned.
And just like that, the moment was gone.
That had been a while back now. Long enough that it shouldn’t still gnaw at him. Long enough that he should have done something about it.
Instead, here they were. Still circling the flames. Always keeping their distance, just far enough not to get burned.
“Hey. Watch where you’re walking Tool.”
Tool shook himself out of his thoughts. “Sorry, brother. How’s things going?”
Bishop looked at his brother and saw what Tool couldn’t. A man spiraling. “You need to get back to the club. You’re wound up too tight, and shit won’t get better without you doing something to chill yourself out.”
Tool stared at Bishop, then around the area to see who was listening. Not that he was embarrassed by his sexual pleasures. “I took a break from Locke and Key.”
“Maybe you should rethink that.” Bishop slapped him on the shoulder before he stepped away. “If you don’t want to come to the club, go get that pretty redhead and put her on her knees.” Bishop said over his shoulder as he disappeared around the corner.
Chapter Five
Two dayslater
Angel handed Tool a beer before stepping outside to check on the bikes.
“How’s things at the big house?” Tool asked, taking the beer Angel handed him.
“Poor Quinn, man. Gypsy needs to give that woman some serious props.”
Tool frowned. “What happened?”
Angel took a sip of his beer, shaking his head. “Tatty got sick the other morning. Poor Quinn’s trying to help the kid while getting puked on. Meanwhile, Gabriel’s bitching about being late for school, and Maxim’s gagging like a little bitch.”
Tool huffed out a laugh. “Sounds about right. What did you do?”
“What she asked me to do.” Angel continued walking towards his bike, tapping his bottle against Tool’s. “Got her robe from the laundry room, called Sloan at the clinic, and made sure Trip got a hold of Gypsy.”
Tool’s expression darkened. “Did the Prez get his ass home?”
Angel snorted. “Nope.Behind closed-door meetings,” he said, mocking the phrase with air quotes. “That’s what I was told.”
Tool exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he looked toward the lot. “Quinn’s a damn saint for putting up with his shit.”
“Yeah,” Angel muttered, taking another drink. “But even saints have their limits.”
Tool agreed with Angel. People did have limits.
