As if.
As if I needed her talking me down like some kid who couldn’t handle his liquor. As if she had any right to make excuses for me after the way she’d played it all night with Rick’s arm around her and that little smile on her face. The anger flared hotter, burning right through the scotch. I’d lay that fucking old man out cold if he touched her again. Friend or not. Brother club or not. I’d do it and not lose a minute’s sleep.
I kept walking, boots crunching on the gravel, cigar smoke trailing behind me like a bad decision I couldn’t outrun. The knot in my chest was back, tighter than ever, and this time it had her name all over it.
CHAPTER 13
SIENNA
I stoodthere in the garden with the fairy lights blurring through the sudden sting in my eyes, watching Mason’s broad back disappear down the gravel path like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. My cheek still burned from where I’d slapped him, but it was nothing compared to the knot twisting in my stomach. Hurt. Angry. Confused as hell. All of it crashing together while the distant thump of the reception music tried to pretend everything was fine.
Lena stepped closer, her hand brushing my arm. “You okay, babe?”
I shook my head, swallowing hard. “No. Yeah. I don’t know.” My voice came out shaky. “God, he’s such an asshole when he’s drunk. But… part of me still hopes he’s safe somewhere out there. Not doing something stupid.”
She gave me a look that said she’d heard enough about Mason this week to write a dissertation on him. We’d gotten all dolled up together earlier—me in this emerald-green dress that hugged every curve I usually hid under field gear, hair loose and wavy for once, makeup actually done. I knew I looked good. Really good. The kind of good that made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I could handle walking into a Royal Bastards weddingwithout feeling like the awkward scientist tag-along. Lena had killed it too, in that sleek black number that made her legs look endless. We’d laughed in the mirror back at the Airbnb, taking selfies like teenagers, and for a minute it had felt like a real girls’ night win.
But then the ceremony had been about to start, and I’d seen him—Rick—standing off to the side by the rose arbor, this big, fit silver-fox of a man in his late fifties, handkerchief pressed to his face like he was trying to hold himself together. He still looked like he could bench-press a Harley, prime and strong, but his eyes… God, his soul looked absolutely shattered. I couldn’t just walk past that. So I’d gone up to him, touched his arm gently, and asked what was wrong.
He’d given me this broken little smile and said, “It’s just… I miss my wife. Weddings, you know? I’m heartbroken. I’ll never get over her. I wanted to come support Tank—he’s a good kid—but it’s just hard for me.”
Eddie had been right there, clapping a hand on Rick’s shoulder, voice rough. “Yeah. I lost mine a few years back in that wreck. Still hits me the same way some days.”
That was it. No creepy vibes. No sleazy lines. Just two older guys who’d loved their wives hard and were drowning in the middle of a happy day that reminded them of everything they’d lost. Lena and I had looked at each other, and without even saying it out loud, we’d decided: we were going to distract them. Keep them laughing. Be the easy, fun company they needed so they didn’t have to stand there alone with their ghosts while everyone else celebrated forever.
And it worked. They were confident, easy to talk to—real conversation, real laughs, no hands wandering where they didn’t belong like half the younger guys at the reception kept trying. Rick told stories about the old days running with the Scorpions that had us cracking up. Eddie cracked jokes about prospect lifeback in the ‘80s that made even the prospects nearby groan. It felt… nice. Normal. Like we were just four people who’d found each other in the middle of the chaos and decided to make the night lighter for everyone. We’d exchanged numbers at the end of the ceremony, nothing flirty, just “let’s grab coffee sometime, keep the laughs going.” Good company. That was all.
And then Mason had to get all drunk and jealous and ruin the goddamn moment.
I pressed my fingers to my temples, the garden spinning a little. “It wasn’t even like that, Lena. They weren’t hitting on us. They were just… sad. And sweet. And we were trying to be decent humans. But he saw me sitting with Rick and lost his mind. Called me a gold-digger whore. Me. Like I’d suddenly turned into some club-girl cliché the second his back was turned.”
Lena’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of understanding in them too. “He’s an idiot. A hot, jealous idiot, but still an idiot. You want me to go find him and slap him again? I’ve got practice now.”
A tiny, broken laugh escaped me. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.” I glanced toward the path where he’d vanished, the knot in my chest loosening just a fraction. “I’m still mad at him about Bandit, you know? That half-feral little shit deserved to be free. I get it now. He never wanted to be cooped up in my apartment anyway. I just… I hope he’s safe out there somewhere. Not roadkill or coyote dinner.”
She bumped my shoulder gently. “He’ll turn up. Cats always do when they’re ready. And Mason? He’ll sober up and realize he just torpedoed whatever the hell you two have going on. Again.”
I nodded, but the confusion still sat heavy. Hurt because his words had cut deeper than I wanted to admit. Angry because he’d assumed the worst without even asking. And yeah—still a little mad about the cat, even if I was starting to see the feral truth in it. But underneath all of it was this stupid, naggingworry that he was out there alone with his scotch and his cigar and his ghosts, just like Rick and Eddie had been before we stepped in.
I straightened my dress, wiped under my eyes quick so the mascara didn’t run, and forced a breath. “Come on. Let’s get back to the girls before Regan sends a search party. And maybe… maybe text Rick and Eddie later. Tell them thanks for the laughs. They earned it tonight.”
Lena linked her arm through mine, and we started back toward the lights and the music, the garden path crunching under our heels.
But I couldn’t stop the last little thought looping in my head: Mason, you absolute idiot. I hope you’re safe. And I hope you choke on that scotch while you figure out how badly you just fucked up.
The garden path felt longer on the way back, my heels crunching gravel like tiny accusations with every step. The rain that had started during the cake cutting had finally let up, leaving the air cool and damp and smelling like wet roses and regret. Lena stayed glued to my side, her arm linked through mine like she was afraid I might bolt.
We’d barely made it back under the string lights when Regan spotted us. She broke away from the cluster of girls still giggling by the bar, her dress sparkling with leftover glitter and her eyes bright with that unstoppable Regan energy.
“Hey! The after-party’s at my cousin’s lake house. Private dock, hot tub, zero prospects allowed. You two in? We’re sneaking out in ten.”
I shook my head before she even finished. “No. Hard pass. I’m done for the night.”
Her eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t push. Instead she looped her other arm through mine and steered us both toward a quieter corner near the hedge, away from the thump of the music and the last stragglers on the dance floor. Lena gave me a small supportive squeeze and wandered off to grab us waters, leaving Regan and me alone.
“Spill,” Regan said, voice low but gentle. “What happened out there? You look like someone ran over your cat again.”
I let out a shaky laugh that hurt. “Bandit did get out, actually. Mason opened the balcony door the other night and the little traitor bolted. Still no sign of him. But that’s not even the worst part.”
