“There you are.” She grabs a hold of Hayden’s arm, pulling his attention away from me. “I’ve been looking for you.”
I freeze. She’s tall. Polished. Effortlessly sexy. The kind of woman who turns heads when she walks into a room—like she knows she owns it. And clearly, she’s had her hands on him before.
My stomach twists. I curl my shoulders inwards, wanting to make myself smaller, suddenly too aware of the oversized hoodie hiding my curves, the smudge of eyeliner I forgot to wipe off earlier.
How could Hayden ever want someone like me? She’s everything I’m not. Beautiful. Confident. Worldly. And I’m… broken. Barely put back together with duct tape and hope.
She trails a manicured nail over a vein in his forearm, and I watch it crawl over his skin like a spider. I want to slap it away. Instead, I just stand there, burning with jealousy I have no right to feel.
“I’m busy, Kel.”
“I’m sure Heather can babysit while we have some fun.” She quirks her lips, ignoring me as if I don’t exist.
Hayden lifts her hand from his arm. “Not tonight, Kel. Go have some fun with one of the other lads.”
Her lips tighten. She glances between me and Hayden with narrowed eyes, then stomps back into the bar in a huff.
“Don’t let me stop you from having fun.” I duck under his arm and walk away, gravel crunching beneath my Converse.
Hayden chuckles behind me. “Are you jealous?”
“No.” Lie. Big fat lie. But I keep walking, fuming at how Miss Daddy Long Legs had her claws all over him.
“Come on,” he calls, catching up easily. “You’re seriously mad about her? She’s been through half the club.”
“That’s even worse! Do you all share women like football stickers? Please tell me my brother hasn’t?—”
“Fuck’s sake, Faith.” He laughs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I don’t ask questions I don’t want answers to. And for the record, I’m thirty. I’ve slept with women. Shocker, I know.”
“Ugh. Thanks for the visual.”
I fold my arms, embarrassed and aching. I’m not a club bunny with perfect legs. I’m just… me. The girl he buys fizzy popfor. The girl who still climbs on his bike like a toddler mounting a pony.
But then his arms wrap around me. And all that insecurity melts away.
The ghost of his kiss from this morning still lingers on my lips as if seared into my skin. I lift my head, reaching on my tiptoes, hoping he’ll kiss me again. My body shivers against him, but I’m not cold.
“You’re cute when you’re mad.” He kisses the top of my head and my shoulders deflate.
“Can we go home?” I whisper.
Wrath nods. No argument. No fuss. Just takes my hand and leads me around the pub to his bike.
“I’m sorry I was mad. I’m just out of sorts with Nigel showing up and?—”
Hayden silences me, pressing his finger to my lips. “Don’t apologise.” He hands me a helmet and I pull it over my head, then climb onto the back of his bike ungracefully, like I always do, hoping he doesn’t notice.
I can barely hear the wind or road over the sound of my own thoughts. I hold on to him tighter than before, not for balance this time, but because I don’t want the silence to swallow me whole when we stop.
His warmth seeps into me, the steady thrum of the bike matching the beat of my heart. It’s not until we reach the garage and climb off I realise I’ve been holding my breath the whole way.
I follow him up the stairs to his flat. He opens the door and lets me in first. The place looks the same—still rough around the edges—but somehow it feels different now.
Like a sanctuary.
He sets his keys on the side, shrugs out of his cut, and gives me a long look. “You okay?”
No. Yes. Maybe.
