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“I should have paid better attention. If I had pulled the recent plans for the building, I would have known.” East’s expression turns grim.

“I doubt your president blames you. If he did, he wouldn’t have given your name to Steel when he was recruiting for Ironside Ridge. No one wants to get on Steel’s bad side.”

“Maybe not, but it doesn’t stop me from blaming myself.”

That much I understand. Sometimes, it’s not about how others view us; it’s about how we see ourselves. Knowing we could have done better. Knowing our decisions failed someone else.

I rub the snake head on the back of my hand, wrestling with my own demons.

East clicks his tongue ring against the back of his teeth. “Anyway, that’s why I’m there. Screwing my head on straight.”

It’s rare East stops fucking around long enough for me to get a read on him, but his living in Texas never made sense to me. It’s too small and quiet for his personality. This is the first time he’s opened up enough for me to understand what brought him there.

He didn’t move to Ironside Ridge for adventure or a change of pace. It’s self-inflicted punishment.

Atonement.

Or maybe he just wants to prove himself. Either way, I respect what he’s doing.

“Doesn’t matter anyway. We’ve got a good thing going on in Texas.” East rakes his hair back, and the straight black strands immediately fall back into his eyes. “Even if it is boring as fuck in that town.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, we do. Shit will all work out.”

“You’ll make sure of it.” He grins, scanning the room. “But in the meantime, I’ve got business to take care of. You coming?”

Patch bunnies wander through the room, eyeing us as they walk past. Last time I was here, I didn’t hesitate. I enjoyed myself. Now, I can barely meet their gaze without my skin crawling.

East lifts off the bar. “I figured. I guess she’s something.”

“Who?”

“You know who, asshole.” He chuckles, disappearing into the crowd and leaving me at the bar.

I hate that he’s right; I know exactly who he’s talking about. I haven’t been able to get Harloe out of my head. She’s been on my mind since I left.

Scratch that—since I met her.

Dark hair blowing in the breeze. Defiance and possibility.

But sitting here, all I see is her smile falling from her face when I told her I was leaving.

It’s for the best.

Harloe is too damn good for me. She deserves a man who can offer her more than physical protection. She deserves true happiness. Which is why I’ve only texted her once since I’ve been gone, knowing I need to give her room to decide what she wants.

I’ve typed her a hundred messages and deleted them all.

She deserves more.

Better.

She said it herself before I left. We’re having fun.

That’s what I’m good for.

A temporary distraction. A decent fuck.

What else would Harloe want from a man with my reputation? Guys like me don’t mean shit to anyone. It’s why we run into trouble first. We’re expendable.