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“You all right, brother?” he asks and I nod, reaching over the bar to throw my beer bottle away.
“I’m good.”
He nods for a minute before turning to me. “You know we’re not fucking idiots, right? We can all see that you’re going through something.”
“Don’t worry. I really am working on it,” I tell him, my mind drifting to my date in a couple hours before going back to Tawny’s confession and apology. Something about it nags at me but I can’t figure out what it is. “Hey, let me ask you something…”
“What?”
“Who do you think that guy was that Tawny met at the bar?”
Moose stares up at the TV for a second before shrugging and glancing over at me. “Who fucking knows? If I had to guess, I would say it was Gavin but, at this point, I’ve got better things to focus on.”
“Yeah, I suppose you do. Congrats, by the way,” I tell him and he nods.
“Thanks. I’m just glad Juliette wasn’t here when Tawny walked in,” he replies, his eyes widening as he blows out a breath and I laugh.
“Your girl got a jealous streak?”
He scoffs. “No, more like protective and someone would have had to hold her back.”
“Sounds like a good problem to have.”
“I suppose,” he answers with a laugh. “Just not while she’s got my baby in her belly.”
I nod, my gaze drifting back to the TV. “Good point.”
“How are the cases looking?”
“Good,” I answer, nodding my head as I continue staring up at the TV, my mind consumed with thoughts of what it would be like to finally have all the things in my life that I’ve been looking for. The guys in this club have always been good men, the kind of guys you know you can always count on but after they each met their women, there was this peace that settled over them and I feel like a caged tiger every damn day as I watch their happiness play out in front of me.
“You got any leads?”
I nod. “Maybe. I’ve got Streak looking something for me so we’ll see.”
“Fuzz… are you really okay?” he asks and when I turn back to him, he’s studying me with concern on his face. I release a breath as I nod and slip off my bar stool, slapping him on his shoulder.
“Yeah, brother. I’m good.”
I can feel his eyes on me as I walk out of the clubhouse and into the parking lot where my bike is waiting for me. I swing my leg over and brace my hands on my thighs, thinking about my date this afternoon. Jesus, I need this to go better than the last two and I hope like hell, the next time I tell someone I’m good, I’ll really mean it.
