Still, I saw red.
So when she walked away, I made sure to have a quiet word. No yelling, no theatrics. Just leaned in close enough for them to feel it in their bones. A look. A hum. My jaw flexing like I was two seconds from breaking theirs. Whatever I said—or didn’t say—worked. Because later, when Holly came back in, that same probie damn near tripped over himself scrambling for the door.
She frowned after him. Looked at me.
I shrugged.
She narrowed her eyes.
I smirked. Wolfish. Unapologetic.
She shook her head, fighting a smile like she couldn’t help herself. Then she walked away.
And yeah, I watched. Damn right I did.
Dalton, of course, had to make it worse. “Game night,” he announced, hauling a goddamn fire extinguisher onto the table with a thunk. “Never know when these two might combust.”
I couldn’t help but grin. That slow, gloating kind of grin. Then I hooked an arm around Holly’s waist and yanked her straight into my lap.
“Jackson!” she barked, squirming. “Put me down.”
My arm just tightened around her, loving the sound of my name on her lips. “Then sit.”
“You’re an ass,” she muttered, cheeks hot, fists batting at me and even elbowing me in the stomach. But she didn’t get up. Didn’t really want to. I could feel it in the way her body went from stiff to settled, like she hated herself for it.
Dalton rolled his eyes. “Christ, get a room. Some of us are here to win.”
I forced myself not to wince. My own damn voice came back at me, sharp and ugly—you two need a room?I’d thrown it at them like a grenade, jealous and stupid, and all it bought me was Holly’s fire.
I’d fucked up. No way around it.
And yet, if I hadn’t? If she hadn’t snapped back, if I hadn’t chased her out to that porch, if she hadn’t kissed me first—
I tightened my arm around her without thinking, like I was afraid she’d slip away if I let her breathe. Maybe I should be grateful my mouth had run off that night. Cost me some pride, sure. But it got methis.
Spades turned into war quick. Ten minutes in, Holly and I were snapping at each other about whether she should’ve thrown a Queen. Which is why neither of us noticed Dalton quietly stacking up tricks like he was running a casino.
She got up to grab a drink. Dalton slipped something out of his sleeve. I lunged, catching his wrist. Out slid an Ace.
“You son of a bitch!” I yelled, waving it like Exhibit A.
Dalton jerked free, scandalized and shouting protests.
Mac dragged a hand down his face. “We should’ve played Monopoly. At least then the cheating’s honest.”
I lunged across the table, grabbing Dalton in a headlock, both of us wrestling across the floor while the fire extinguisher rolled off the table like a referee calling time-out.
Holly leaned on the counter with her drink, smirking at us like we were a couple of idiots, which we were. But she was smiling. At me. And I’d take that any damn day.
Idiots, her eyes said.
Mine, my chest answered.
The days blurred into each other after that. Loud, messy, full of touches that probably looked casual to everyone else but weren’t casual at all. Every morning shaved another sliver off the time we had, and every night I found some excuse to putmy hands on her. A brush of my fingers. A hand at her hip. One more second burned into memory, like if I touched her enough, I could map her into me and never lose it.
Didn’t matter. Time was still running out.
She didn’t see it yet, or she pretended not to. The calendar bleeding down to nothing. But I felt it every damn night, lying awake and listening to the clubhouse go quiet around us. Every laugh, every spark in her eyes, every soft sound she made when she leaned against me…it was all getting carved into me.
