“You out of your fucking mind?” Colter snapped, taking a threatening step forward.
In my periphery, I saw Syn straighten and start heading in their direction too.
“Do you have any fucking idea how hard I’m trying with her?” Colter said, making me stop mid-stride. “How fucking delicate this shit is?”
“I was just—”
“I don’t give a shit what you were trying to do. It wasn’t your place.”
He took a threatening step toward Saint.
Saint straightened but held his ground.
I was sure fights were a part of their club. In my experience, it seemed like bikers needed to fight on occasion to blow off steam.
But Colter was almost vibrating with rage. A lot like that night back at the motel in Shady Valley when he had a man by the throat.
The difference was that this wasn’t some random guy he could walk away from and never see again. This was his club brother.
“I swear to God, Saint, if you fucked this up—”
“Hey,” I said, finally moving to wedge myself between them.
Saint went back a step, giving me the space to press a hand into Colter’s chest.
“Hey,” I tried again, my voice softer. “Look at me,” I demanded.
Colter’s gaze cut downward, and I watched some of the anger leech from his eyes. But his jaw was still ticking.
“He didn’t fuck up anything.” I saw the uncertainty on his face, the way he wanted to believe. But I hadn’t exactly given him a reason to. “Colter, he just… he cares about you.”
“Caring about me doesn’t involve going behind my back to talk to you.” He was answering me, but glaring over my head at Saint.
“Listen, the only person who is probably going to fuck this up,” I said, pushing my hand harder into his chest, “is me.”
“Don’t say that,” Colter said, finally looking back at me.
I could feel Saint moving away, saw Syn taking Sugar and doing the same.
“Come on. You’re thinking it too. You practically just beat that fact into Saint.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant, though. This is ‘delicate’ because of me. You have to try so hard… because of me.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he insisted, the anger washing out of him, leaving something raw and vulnerable.
“Yes, you did.”
“Dylan…”
“I get it. I’m… difficult. And dense and… what else did he say? Defensive and dumb—”
“That fucking—”
I grabbed his wrist as he tried to storm past me again.
“Stop. For fuck’s sake. I’m trying to… communicate and shit here, okay? This isn’t easy for me.”
