Billie brushed past the guy and headed toward the exit, quick steps, hand tight on her hood. Relief and regret hit at once—glad she was done with him, furious that I wasn’t the one who made him back off.
I exhaled slow, counting heartbeats until the urge drained away. The guy already moved on to someone else.
Still, the echo remained—mine.
I waved off Mari’s next sentence and ordered water. My knuckles hurt from gripping too hard. The fight stayed locked behind my ribs, pacing, waiting.
The noise pressed in, too hot, too human. I couldn’t breathe inside it anymore. The laughter, the buzz, Mari’s perfume—everything scraped my nerves raw.
I stood up so fast the stool screeched against the floor. Mari blinked up at me, half-smile frozen.
“Early skate,” I muttered, already reaching for my wallet. “Gotta set drills before sunrise.”
The bartender caught my nod. “On me tonight,” I told him, sliding cash across the counter before he could argue. Maybe I wanted to atone for something, though I couldn’t name what.
Mari leaned an elbow on the bar, eyes searching my face. “That’s it?”
“Yeah,” I said. One word, no explanation.
Her mouth curved, not in anger—pity, maybe. Or understanding. Hard to tell. We both knew I wasn’t walking out with her. Not tonight. Not ever.
As I passed her, our eyes met for a beat too long. Hers were sharp, curious. Mine refused to stay. I looked away first, the coward’s move, but better that than false promises.
The door slammed behind me and the night air hit like a slap—cold, dense, real. The kind of cold that stripped you clean of excuses. I breathed it in until my chest burned. My keys dug crescents into my palm, metal biting through skin.
Rain slicked the sidewalk. Streetlights threw pale circles across empty cars. The city hummed low, distant, like a heart you could barely hear. I started toward the lot, boots crunching, jacket collar pulled high.
You came to bury suspicion.
That was the line I fed myself on the drive over. Bury it under noise and whiskey and someone else’s laughter. Pretend the fire in my chest wasn’t her—didn’t start with her, wouldn’t end with her.
But walking away from that bar, I knew better.
You left carrying confirmation.
The truth was heavy, and it had her face. Every breath pulled her closer instead of pushing her out.
I could still smell the ice on her skin, the faint sting of liniment, the echo of her voice when she’d whispered that she could handle anything I threw at her. I believed her. That belief scared the hell out of me.
You’re in trouble, Shaw.
Yeah. I knew.
I stepped back into the bar… and there she was, this time with Kira, and… the bar tender.
No.
I should go home.
I should.
And yet…
Chapter 13
Billie
The second I spotted him, everything inside me went off-balance. Calder Shaw—beer in hand, a blonde in flannel leaning into his shoulder like she belonged there. He looked comfortable. Easy. The kind of easy that shouldn’t exist in the same man who’d carved me open with one glare at practice.
