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“Good girl,” he says, soft and rough at the same time.

Heat rushes through me so fast I forget where we are.

His mouth curves, just slightly, like he knows exactly what he’s done. Then his hand settles low on my back, guiding me toward the entrance.

“Come on,” he says. “Before Theo hooks into the juice.”

Inside, the snooker club is exactly what I expected. The air is thick with old cigarette smoke, spilled beer, and the steady click of balls. Dim lights hang over worn green felt tables. Most of the patrons are older working-class men with grizzled faces, faded shirts, and tattoos.

Levi moves through the room with easy familiarity. He claps shoulders and trades insults with a few of the guys.

A man in a faded cap grins as we pass. “Well, shit. This the lovely lady you’ve been talking about?”

Levi doesn’t miss a beat. “Shut the fuck up.”

He guides me toward a high table near the wall. I spot Theo already perched happily at the bar, chatting with a pretty bartender.

Levi gets pulled into a game almost immediately. I sit and watch him move around the table with quiet focus. Every now and then he adjusts his stiff left hand on the cue with his right, setting it carefully before taking the shot. Pain shows in the tight set of his jaw and the slight pause before he bends over the table, but he never complains. He simply works around it.

It’s admirable, really. He doesn’t let the pain stop him from doing what he wants to do.

I’m watching him line up a shot when a man with a round belly and a faded tattoo on one forearm slides into the seat across from me. He has the friendly confidence of someone who never hesitates to talk to strangers.

“I’m Al.”

“Carmen,” I say.

He nods toward Levi. “He’s a good guy, that one.”

I glance over at Levi, who is scowling at the table as he lines up a shot.

“Loyal as they come,” Al continues without prompt. “You need something handled, Levi’s the one you call.”

There’s something about the word handled that makes me look back at Levi.

Al leans forward, warming to the subject. “Had a fight break out here a couple of years back. Three big guys going at it. Levi stepped in and broke it up in about ten seconds flat. Smashed one guy’s head into that corner right there.” He points proudly at the visibly damaged edge of a nearby table. “Then the bigger one tried pulling a knife, and Levi took it off him like it was nothing.”

“Oh really?” I say, smiling faintly.

It sounds exactly like the sort of story men tell when they want their friend to sound like a legend. I assume he’s exaggerating heavily—if not making the whole thing up.

“You should hear what he did to the third⁠—”

Before Al can continue, Levi appears beside the table, cue in hand.

He gives Al a flat look.

Al stops talking immediately.

Levi jerks his head to the side.

Al raises both hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Just telling her what a catch you are, son.”

Levi gives him another look.

Still grinning, Al pushes himself up and wanders off.

Levi lingers for a second, then shoots me a quick, almost embarrassed glance. “Don’t listen to him. He’s full of shit.”