“Sure.” I settle back against the couch.
Then it hits me. I wonder what Noia is doing right now. Is she writing? Is she thinking about me? Does she miss me as much as I suddenly realize I miss her?
“Hey. You good?” Jax asks, handing me another beer.
I take it with a grunt. “Just thinking.”
“About your girl,” he states.
“Yeah.”
Jax studies me for a moment, then sets his beer down with a decisive thud. “Alright, that’s it. We’re going out.”
“What? No, man. I’m good here.”
“Nope. I’m not gonna spend the rest of the night watching you sit around and mope.” He points in the direction of the hall. “Go get dressed. We’re hitting The Brew.”
“Fine,” I grumble, pushing myself off the couch. “But just for a couple of hours.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re walking into The Brew. The place is packed, music thumping as we make our way across the room to where Claire and Lizzy are hanging out at the bar.
“Ladies,” Jax grins, sliding onto a barstool. “Fancy meeting you here.”
I nod at them and order a whiskey, wishing I was back at Jax’s place. Or better yet, with Noia.
Claire slides onto the stool next to me, eyeing me carefully. “What’s up with you? Where’s Noia?”
“Not here.” Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I take a sip of my drink, bracing myself.
“Everything, okay?”
I shrug, this time downing half my drink.
Lizzy shoves Jax out of the way and leans on the bar next to me. Now I’ve got both women boxing me in.
“Why do you have sad puppy dog eyes?”
I glance over at Jax for help, but he just grins.
Asshole.
“I donothave sad puppy dog eyes,” I growl.
“Oh, you definitely do,” Claire agrees as she slides off the stool and grabs my arm. “Come on, broody. Let’s go play some darts.”
Next thing I know, she’s dragging me over to a dartboard in the corner, Jax and Lizzy not far behind.
“So what happened?” Claire asks as she sets up the game.
She hands me the darts and I roll them over and over in my hand while I think about what to say. “It’s complicated.”
“Life’s complicated,” she says, lining up her shot. “Doesn’t mean you should run from it.”
Her dart hits the bullseye dead on.
Moving into position, I take my turn. “I’m not running,” I argue, my dart landing just outside the center. Yup, definitely off my game, and in more ways than one. “I just needed time to think.”
“About what?” Lizzy asks, perching on a nearby stool.
