Jordan and Jessie emerge from the bar. I pull away from Seb and walk back over to stand in front of Devin, blocking his path to his brother. Jessie and I lock eyes. I can tell she told her fiancé the gory details I told her at the arena and I don’t blame her in the least. I am done waiting for Devin to do the right thing.
Jordan takes a couple steps toward us but stops a few feet away. Jessie is beside him; her eyes never leave me. I guess I look as shaken up as I feel. Alex and Seb disappear down the street, probably realizing that this is a family matter. Jordan shoves his hands into his pockets.
“I don’t want to fight with you, Dev,” he says in a quiet voice. “I honestly don’t give a fuck if you stay married to Ashleigh or not. I just want to see you out of this place you’re in—this dark, shitty place.”
Devin says nothing. He doesn’t lift his gaze. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was dead. Maybe he kind of is on the inside. That revelation makes my heart ache. I reach out and take his hand in mine, prying his fingers out of the fist they’re balled up in and lacing them with mine. He doesn’t pull away.
“If you need anything, if Conner needs anything, whatever…just call me, okay?” Jordan tells him. “I’m sorry.”
Jordan turns and walks back toward the bar. Jessie watches him disappear back inside but doesn’t follow. She walks over and stands in front of Devin and waits patiently until he finally lifts his head and looks at her.
“He loves you so much,” Jessie tells him in an even, matter-of-fact voice. “I do too. Never forget that.”
She reaches up and hugs him. He doesn’t hug her back but I can see the anger melt from his face. Now he simply looks defeated.
“When you’re ready to get out of your own way and let us in, we’ll be here,” she says as she kisses his cheek and walks off.
We both watch her go back into the bar. Once we’re alone in the parking lot again, he pushes off the wall and starts to storm down the street. I run after him.
“I need to get the hell out of here,” he says in a strained whisper.
“Fine,” I reply and follow him toward the sidewalk.
He turns to me with dark, hollow eyes and all I want to do is kiss that sad, empty look off his face. It’s such an overwhelming urge that I have to bite my bottom lip and push my hands into my jean pockets to keep them from grabbing his face. Vulnerability in a man has never been attractive to me before. But with Devin it’s so raw and charged with testosterone that I can feel my panties getting wet. “You should go get Sebastian and bring him home if you want. Do what you need to do.”
“If only it were that simple,” I reply ruefully, but I don’t know if he hears me. He’s halfway down the street already.
I head back into the bar. The atmosphere is still tense. I walk over to Jordan, who is standing by the pool table finishing the game I started with Seb, and I hug him and kiss his cheek.
“Okay, now I know the world is coming to an end,” he jokes, but it’s strained.
“Thank you for not being a total infant out there and just letting him be one instead,” I tell him as I let go of his broad shoulders. Jessie walks over and hugs me around the shoulders from behind.
“The boys are off to Milwaukee in the morning,” she says about the Winterhawks. “My flight back to Seattle isn’t until four in the afternoon. Let’s do brunch.”
“Deal. I’ll pick you up at noon,” I tell her and kiss her cheek. “I’m going to go home.”
“Check on Devin?” Jordan asks hopefully. I nod. “Can you keep me posted on things? Text me updates for the next few weeks? You know he probably won’t be talking to me for a while.”
“Yeah. Totally. I promise.”
Jessie hugs me and I give Jordan a playful shove, then I call a cab on my cell.
Chapter 19
Devin
Icouldn’t go home. I knew Callie would show up there sooner rather than later and I don’t want to talk to her—or anyone—about what just happened. I really am not in the mood for talking. I am in the mood for taking my frustrations out in a different way. I walk around in the cold, with no destination in mind, until I find myself in front of my local go-to bar, the same bar where I ran into Donahue a while ago. Back then I was trying desperately to hold on to my marriage. Now I know better.
I head inside, order a scotch and nurse it as I scan the crowd. I’m there about an hour when I see her. The girl from the last time I was here. I never did get her name. I don’t care if I get it now either. I watch her as she dances on the tiny dance floor with two other girls. She’s wearing a pair of black leggings and a cherry-red top that her cleavage is spilling out of. She’s teetering on a pair of four-inch red leather pumps. Those shoes are the only things I will let her keep on tonight, I decide.
As I walk toward her, a part of me fills with dread because part of me doesn’t want to do this. Part of me wants to go home and let Callie hold my hand again. But wanting someone’s hand to hold—someone to count on—is what had made me want to marry Ashleigh. So I let the irrational, angry and sexually frustrated part take over. The part of me that wants to live in a drunken world of base pleasure and emotionless sex. The part of me that would rather die than fall in love with someone again.
She looks up as she swings her hips provocatively and sees me coming. It takes her a second, but her heavily made-up eyes flare in recognition. She smiles and waves. I walk over to her and wrap an arm tightly around her waist and instantly match the rhythm of her hips. Our groins are pressed up against each other and I’m already hard. I was hard before I saw her. This isn’t about her.
“Remember me?”
“How could I forget?” she asks.
