Текст книги "Jesse"

Автор книги: Jo Raven

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

God. So delicious. I’m acting like a mad woman, and I don’t care. Besides, nobody is here to see me.

I hope.

“All right, kitten?” He lowers my leg and smooths down my dress, then he lifts one hand and strokes my cheek. It’s too dark to see the color of his eyes, but I feel his lips when they touch the tip of my nose.

“Yeah.”

I should hate the nickname. Kitten. Ridiculous.

And yet it’s cute. As for calling me Embers, I can’t complain anymore. Not when I know that Embers means something important to him.

“Not so romantic here,” he says. “I know that. I’d buy you flowers. Would you like that?”

Okay, I’m speechless again. “You’d buy me flowers?”

But he hates shopping, is the only coherent thought I manage.

“Hell yeah, I’d buy you flowers. And chocolates, and whatever you want.” He cups my face. “Red roses?”

“No.” I look away, face heating. What girl doesn’t like red roses? “White roses. They stand for new beginnings.” I shrug at his arched brow. “My mom’s a florist.”

He nods, his expression going blank. How weird, I think, that he loves babies but goes stiff when I speak of my parents. That he talks about sending me roses after having sex against a tree trunk. So many contradictions.

“Ready to go?” He takes my hand, and I let him pull me out of the cover of trees, heading toward the street, my mind buzzing.

It’s not until we’re sitting in a cab and rolling that I realize I’m still not wearing my panties, and that they’re lying somewhere in the park.

Then Jesse kisses me, and they’re again forgotten. Who needs panties, anyway, with this man? They’d only get in the way.

***

The house is frigging huge. The gate is open, music and noise spilling into the street. Inside there are pools with stone alligators at the edges. The small crowd of the wedding has expanded. There have to be at least a hundred people milling about the grounds, shadows until they move close to the torches stuck in the ground and the illuminated pools. A long table with food stands on one side. The scent of water tells me we’re on the lake shore.

Crazy place. Never expected anything so grand. I hope Asher and Audrey are enjoying their reception. After what I heard during the ceremony, they more than deserve it.

If only I enjoyed this, too…

Jesse’s arm is a welcome weight around my shoulders, and I’m grateful beyond words for his presence, but as we stroll along one pool, watching candles and bunches of flowers floating in the milky, lit-up water, I know I have to let him do his thing—talk to his friends, catch up with them, talk to new people, without me attached like a leech to his side. Both for his sake, and mine.

I mean, it doesn’t have to be for the whole time, right? I can go find Kayla and Ev, at the very least, and return to him later.

If he’s still available and willing to hold my hand.

“Trust me,” he said earlier.

Maybe I should. Maybe I should trust myself, too, to survive for an hour without need of a babysitter.

A very sexy, handsome babysitter. Still…

“Hey, I was thinking…” I start to pull away from him, and his arm instinctively tightens around my shoulders, then drops to his side.

“What’s wrong?” He has to shout to be heard over the music and general hubbub.

“Nothing’s wrong.” I smile at him, study his beautiful face in the flickering light of the torches. “I thought I’d just go say hi to the girls and find you later. Give you a breather.”

“I don’t need a breather from you, Embers.”

A knot forms in my throat. He keeps saying such sweet things, keeps catching me off guard.

“Just for a while. Need to do this.”

He seems about to say something, then thinks better of it and nods instead. A faint smile touches his lips, my favorite one that lights up his eyes.

Before I go, though, he leans in and drops a soft, sweet kiss on my mouth. “Come back whenever you like,” he whispers, and my heart does a wild little flip of joy.

“I will.”

Wandering away from him is harder than I thought, but I force myself not to look back. Just an hour, Amber, come on.

I push my way through a group of giggling girls, searching for my friends, and for one fleeting, horrible second I think I see Nick from the corner of my eye.

My breath freezes in my lungs. I stop in my tracks, trying to locate him again, but he’s gone. Or I imagined him. Oh God, I probably did. Wouldn’t be the first time. I used to see him everywhere for a while, back then.

What would he be doing here anyway?

And where are my friends? So many people. It’s as if they sprouted from the tiled floor. I swear the wedding was a much smaller affair. Which makes sense, I guess, but it’s only sinking in now, as I wander, lost, bumping into people, fast working myself into a panic.

I rub at the leather band on my wrist and suck in a deep breath.

The crowd parts a little toward the end of the pool, and I see familiar faces at last. Zane’s blue Mohawk is like a flashing road sign, and not far from him, I spot Micah and Ev. I open my mouth to call her name, but they seem to be having a serious conversation, judging from their frowning faces.

Uh-oh. Not a good time.

I backpedal before they notice me. Kayla is nowhere to be seen, and Zane and Dakota are heading off, toward the buffet, together with Dylan and his little brothers.

Maybe eating something isn’t a bad idea. I should ask Jesse if he’d like to join me. I retrace my steps, hurrying back along the pool to its other end, pushing against the flow.

Yeah, so I didn’t even make it for fifteen minutes on my own. But truth is, I am hungry. Starving. Couldn’t eat all day from the nerves, and the smells coming from the back of the garden are mouthwatering. My stomach is growling like a beast from hell.

Hey, he did say I could go back to him whenever I wanted, right? And although I’ve only been away from him only a moment, I find a spring in my step and a lightness in my heart as I walk back toward him.

You got it bad, girl.

But I can’t keep from smiling as I wade through a cluster of laughing guys who are waving beer bottles and smoking what I only hope is tobacco—in search of JJ.

And I find him.

Only, something’s wrong with the picture. My mind refuses to process what my eyes are seeing, and I stop so abruptly the momentum carries me forward one more step.

Jesse is kissing a girl. Her hands are on his shoulders and her mouth on his, and I can’t… can’t breathe. Can’t speak.

Can’t frigging think.

My hands are shaking. The tremor spreads to my arms.

I should have expected this. Why didn’t I expect this? Everyone warned me, everyone. People don’t change just like that, from one woman to the next. A manwhore won’t change his ways for me.

I was only gone fifteen minutes…

Turning away blindly, I make for the garden gate. I can’t get out of here fast enough. My heart hurts. It’s cracking, shattering.

Stupid, Amber. That was so stupid of you, to fall for him.

I think I hear him calling my name, and I start to run, my sandals clacking on the paved floor. I duck under arms, squeeze between people in my rush to get out of there. Disoriented, I slow down and glance around.

There. The gate.

A moment later I’m out on the street, calling a cab. I’m lucky, there’s one in the vicinity. I walk further down the road while waiting, and as I hear a commotion at the gate, and my name being called once more, I climb into the cab and speed away.

If only fixing my heart could be so simple.

PART III

My name’s Jesse Lee, not Jesse James, but the famous outlaw and I seem to have lots in common. I’m not a train robber by any stretch, but I know what it’s like to be poor. I’m not a gang leader, but I’ve lived on the dirty streets for years. I’m no murderer, but by the looks some people give me, I might as well be. I’m always on the run, always on the move, never sprouting roots, always drifting, like my namesake.

He’s dead, and I’m alive, but I might as well be dead and buried in his grave. I might as well be him—because if I said I wanted to stop running, that I want a home and a girl to love and hold, nobody would believe me.

Wanna bet?

~ Jesse

Chapter Eighteen

Jesse

Holy shit. I try to push Cassie off me without hurting her, but she’s holding on to me like she’s drowning and I’m a lifesaver. What the fuck’s up with this girl? I don’t want to kiss her. I don’t like her, she tastes wrong, and besides…

Don’t want to kiss any girl but Amber.

I growl, finally shaking her hold off me and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “What the hell’s wrong with you, huh?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t want it, Jesse Lee.” She has her hands on her hips, blue eyes flashing, and hell, she’d be sexy, she’d be hot if…

If I was interested. Which I’m not. “Stay away from me. I’m not…”

Was that Amber? I thought I saw her, eyes wide and dark, face white, mouth open. I thought I saw her turn on her heels and run.

“Amber?” I turn to go after her.

Cassie grabs my hand. “Jesse, wait. Do you really want to do this?”

I still. Cold fury spreads in my chest, in my face, until it feels numb. “Let. Go.” I look pointedly at her hand on mine. “Now.”

Her brows shoot up and some color leaves her face. “Okay.” She draws her hand back, curls it into a fist. “But you must see it. She’s not like you. She’s taking this seriously. I’m doing you a favor, Jesse.”

“Fuck you.” If she was a guy, I’d have punched her, but she’s a chick, dammit. “Stay out of my life, and don’t you ever fucking touch me again, got it?”

I run after Amber. I’ll explain this to her. She’ll understand. She has to know I wouldn’t do this to her. That I wouldn’t do this at all, not since her.

Why did she run? Fuck, she doesn’t believe I initiated the kiss, did she? Not after I told her I never kissed anyone before her. That I want to be with her.

But the cold feeling in my gut tells me she does believe it’s my fault.

Shocker, I know. With my history, why would she trust me? But it smarts.

I shove people aside, their curses following me as I look for her frantically. Where did she go?

Amber. I thought she saw me, that she had faith in me. More faith than I have in myself. And now I can’t see her anywhere. She hasn’t left the reception, right?

Right?

Oh fuck.

I start running flat out as soon as the crowd thins a little, heading out. I pound out onto the street and glance right and left. Where are you, Embers?

A glitter to my left has me running that way before I even get a good look. It’s her all right, her silver dress catching the light of a street lamp. But a cab overtakes me and stops in front of her. She opens the door and climbs inside.

“Embers!” I put in another burst of speed. Can’t let her leave believing I cheated on her. Can’t let her go. “Wait!”

But the cab speeds off, leaving me in its dust. I race after it for a few yards, waving my arms like an idiot and calling for her.

No use.

Dammit.

She’s gone.

I slow to a halt on the street, brace my hands on my knees and struggle to catch my breath. A can honks behind me, and I stumble sideways, climbing onto the sidewalk.

Can’t believe this happened. Can’t believe she wouldn’t even stay to talk to me, hear me out. I thought…

You thought she was different. That she’d treat you like someone worth hanging on to. Instead she turned her back at the first sign of trouble, just like everyone else in your life. Didn’t wait two seconds to hear you out, give you the chance to explain yourself.

And the kicker is that you still want her and hope she’ll take you back.

***

Seth finds me drinking whiskey by the pool some time later, sitting in a bamboo chair. I’m staring at my cell phone, at the lack of response after the tenth text I’ve sent her, when his shadow falls over me.

He pries the glass from my fingers and sits down on the chair across from me. He lifts it, swallows the rest of my whiskey down and grimaces. “So what the fuck happened here, man?”

I put down the damn cell and rub a hand over my face, then reach for the leather band around my wrist.

It’s not there. I panic for a second before I remember giving it to her.

All right, then.

The music isn’t as loud as before, and a glance around tells me most people have left. Who knows for how long I’ve been sitting here.

Fuck. I get up on unsteady legs, intent on catching a cab to her place and knocking on her door until she lets me in, lets me explain.

Fight for your girl, Zane had said.

The world tilts, and I sink back down. Whoa. I blink, waiting for the dizzy spell to pass.

Seth hasn’t moved from his sprawl on the seat, not even when I weaved on my feet. Asshole.

“So how much have you drunk?” He lifts the whiskey bottle from its spot by my seat. He shakes it. It’s almost empty. “Tell me this wasn’t full when you started on it.”

“It wasn’t.” Least, I don’t think it was. Not completely.

“Good, because if you swallowed that much whiskey in half an hour, I’d be calling the fucking ambulance right now.”

Fuck. I thought I’d been sitting here for five minutes only. I needed to catch my breath and I hoped she’d answer the phone, or my texts.

“I’m okay. I need to go, I’m…” I shake my head, frown at him. “Hey, just a sec. How come you’re not flaming pissed?”

His brows lift. “I don’t look pissed to you?”

Well. He’s got a point, and yet… “Not enough. Not if you like Cassie that way.”

“I don’t.”

Back up. I didn’t quite catch that. “The fuck you don’t.”

“She’s okay, I guess. No, Shane is the one who likes her.” He pours the remnants of the whiskey into my glass—my glass, motherfucker—and swallows it down in one gulp. “I’m pissed on his behalf, not mine. Which is why I haven’t punched your pretty face in.”

Hell. “But the other night, outside Halo, you said—”

“That she’s a nice girl.” He shrugs. “I need to believe it, for Shane. Guy’s head over heels.”

“But you saw what she did.” I feel cold, and I wonder if I’m coming down with something, or if it’s all the whiskey I drank. “That’s so fucked up.”

“She just came on to you?” He cocks his head at me, eyes narrowing.

“Yes!”

“Why didn’t you push her away?”

I gape at him. “Shit, you don’t believe me.”

“Just saying, man. She’s a girl, and you’re a strong guy. She can’t have forced you.”

I get up again, dizziness be damned. I jab a finger at Seth. “You saw her at Halo the other night. And for your information, motherfucker, I pushed her, but she wouldn’t let go. Ask anyone who was around. Fuck.”

Seth grabs my forearm and drags me back down. Balance shot, I topple backward, almost missing the chair.

“The hell?”

“I believe you.” Low. Quiet. “So just sit tight and don’t go drowning in the pool or anything, all right? You’re right, I saw her at the bar the other night. She has a crush on you.”

I shrug angrily. Not my fault, is it? “I have to go find Amber.”

Because she saw it. She fucking saw it. And now she’s not here, and I feel…half. Incomplete.

“I’ll go with you, then.” He gets to his feet and gives me a hand up. “Let’s go.”

Gratefulness fills me. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.” And not just the fact he’s coming with me, but the fact he believes me.

“So,” I say as he guides me along the pool with a hand on my shoulder, without which I’d have probably stumbled into the lit water already, “you’re not into chicks, or am I missing something?”

He chokes on laughter. “Fuck’s sake, J. Who says I don’t like chicks?” He sobers as we walk past a cluster of people dancing to a ballad. The bride and groom are at the center, wrapped around each other, and anger flares again inside me.

Embers…

“That one.” Seth is pointing at someone, and when I focus enough to look, I see Cassie, her back turned to me, talking to some people.

“Fuck her.” I jerk away from him and start toward her, heat rushing up my neck, my hands fisting. “I’ll punch the bitch. I don’t give a flying fuck that she’s a girl.”

“J, no.” Seth’s hand closes around my bicep like a vise of steel, holding me back. “Not her, idiot. The brunette. Her friend. That’s the one I want.”

Seeing through the red haze of anger takes some effort. I finally notice the brunette. She’s pretty, with large, dark eyes, shiny long hair and a tight, tall body, like a dancer.

“That Cassie’s friend? Maud, or something like that?”

“Manon. Madeline Torres.”

He sounds breathless. Jesus.

Oh yeah, the boy’s got it bad for this particular girl.

“I take it all back,” I mutter as he drags me away and out of the garden. “You really are into chicks. But honestly, why the fuck did you have to pick Cassie’s friend of all people?”

***

I’ve been buzzing Amber’s door for what feels like hours, but no reply. I try again calling her on the cell phone.

Nothing. Nada.

The call goes to voicemail. She’s switched her phone off.

Seth is smoking beside me, the embers of his cigarette glowing in the night.

“Open up!” I slam my fist on the building door and relish the jarring pain shooting up my arm.

“Easy, guy.” Seth throws his smoke down, steps on it and grabs my arm. “Let’s go.”

“Fuck you. Lemme go. I have to talk to her.”

“She’s upset right now, man. Give her time.”

“Time will only make this worse.” I know it. I can feel it in my bones. Have to clear this up before it festers. “Go, I’ll be fine.”

“The hell you will.” He tugs. “Come on, J.”

“Get your hands off me.” I shake him off and press the buzzer button again. “Why won’t she talk to me? I didn’t do anything.”

“We talked about this. Your reputation—”

“Fuck my reputation. I’m a person. I’m not my past.” Not sure I’m making sense. I’m gonna break something, and if it’s not this door, it will be a bone in my body. I bang on her door and yell her name.

I only want… Want her to keep me, dammit. To give me the benefit of a doubt. Don’t I deserve even that much?

“J, dammit. Come on, before someone calls the police.” He tears me away from the building entrance and hauls me down the street, glancing over his shoulder all the way. His grip is cutting off the circulation in my arm, and the pain is welcome, though not enough to take my mind off this mess.

My fault. It’s all because of my fucking reputation, my fucking past and my need to drown it all in sex, sex I was in control of, until I met Amber.

My fault for not punching Cassie in the face when she came on to me.

I need to drink more.

But Seth has other ideas. He’s dragging me away, walking me back to my apartment, and dammit, I have nothing there to drink, not since the jackasses who live with me drank all my liquor.

And then Amber took me to her place and broke out the brandy, and we toasted Helen together.

Fuck.

Amber. She tastes like candy. I want to kiss her again, wrap myself in her. She’s so intoxicating and yet she feels so good, like home, a feeling I’ve almost forgotten.

I want her. Need her. So much it fucking hurts.

Rubbing the demon inked on my chest, I stumble after Seth who’s determined to bring me home safe.

I let him. I don’t even bother to shake my arm free again. We stagger past closed stores and groups of guys and girls barhopping and having a fun night out, and my brain shuts down to minimum functions.

Heart beating. Eyes scanning the sidewalk ahead. Swallowing down the bile rising in my throat. Breathing.

Because I don’t get how this is happening again—and how it can be worse than anything that has happened so far in my fucked up life.

***

“What the hell were you thinking?” Zane rants at me, walking up and down the tiny space of his booth. Which basically means he takes two steps and turns, takes two steps and turns.

Driving me up the wall. “Z-man…”

“Now listen to me, fucker.” He stops, sucks on the barbell in his tongue. “I thought you were serious about Amber, but I told you how I felt about you toying with her.”

“I’m not toying with her. I am serious. Jesus.”

“Shoving your tongue down Cassie’s throat isn’t showing me you’re serious.”

“I didn’t—”

He backs me up against the counter. “Don’t give me this shit.”

“Back off.”

He doesn’t. He’s glowering at me, a flush going up his neck.

Goddammit. Way too close. He’s crowding me. He’s got a few inches on me, and with the Mohawk he looms over me. I shove him back, my breath short. “Stay the fuck out of my face.”

He stumbles, caught by surprise. “What the hell, man?”

“Stay away from me. Just… stay the fuck away.”

I lean back on the counter, cross my arms across my chest and try to pretend my heart isn’t pounding in my ears and that cold sweat isn’t running down my face.

Damn. I thought I was over that evening when I got my scars. I mean, come on, I wasn’t even a kid. It was only a couple of years ago. I thought it hadn’t affected me, hadn’t scarred anything more than my arm, but in moments like this, or when Gage cornered me in the kitchen, I realize it has. It’s carved deep into my mind.

Zane is still, one hand gripping the back of his neck, watching me like a hawk.

Boom, boom, boom. My heart is hammering, knifing through my chest.

“Sit down, fucker,” Zane finally says, grabs my arm and drags me to his work stool. I let him, mostly because my legs feel weirdly weak. Then he sticks his head out of the booth and roars, “Tyler! Get your butt in here.”

Great. I scowl and brace for round two of whack-a-Jesse.

“What’s up?” Tyler walks inside, and damn, that’s too many men and too much testosterone for a booth. Maybe I can escape outside long enough to draw a real breath.

But Tyler decides to stay in the entrance, blocking it.

Figures.

My breath whistles in my chest. I scratch at the scars on my arm. Need to get out, dammit.

“Man, I told you.” My voice echoes in my ears. “I didn’t kiss Cassie. Don’t know what else to say.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” Tyler says. “Admittedly, this one was fucking stupid, but—” He takes a step forward. “You okay, J?”

“It wasn’t a mistake,” I whisper, because I need to say it. “I didn’t do it.” My hands are shaking like an old man’s.

He says nothing for a moment. Then, “Have you ever been attacked?”

I flinch, my heart racing away. “What’s that got to do with it?”

“Why are you rubbing your arm?” Tyler sits on the counter next to me, crosses his legs at the ankles. “How did you get those scars?”

Zane leans on the counter across from me, giving me an illusion of space. It’s almost working.

I suck in a long breath. “I was attacked… years ago.” The words drag through me like rusty nails. “In a back alley.”

Tyler nods at my arm. “That all the damage?”

I nod, even as memories assault me—Simon’s stench of rank sweat and alcohol, his hands on me, pushing me down, to my knees. Any attempt to draw oxygen into my lungs fails, the images, the sensations pummeling me into pulp.

“Okay, let’s get out of here.” I barely register Tyler’s voice or his hand closing around my arm, but I stumble after him.

We cross the shop. He opens the door, and we are outside, Zane on my other side. The sun peeks through stray clouds. My head clears as we walk down the street, going God knows where, and my heart slows.

The tiny Edward Klief Park is just around the corner, and Tyler leads us to a bench under a tree. The shade is cool, and I sink down on the wooden seat with relief.

“Better, fucker?” Zane asks after a while, and I force my zoned-out brain to return to the now. “Thought you were gonna pass out in there for a moment.”

“Shit, don’t know what happened.”

Tyler is sitting with his hands hanging between his legs. He sends me a sideways look. “Sounds like you had a bad experience and certain situations remind you of it.” He makes it sound like a question.

I nod.

“It’s okay to freak out, you know,” he says. “I get that sometimes, too.”

That’s news to me. Tyler looks… solid. Totally solid. One hundred percent powerhouse. “You freak out? About things that happened to you?”

“We all do,” Zane says, and okay, my jaw is hanging slack. “See, fucker, you’ve avoided this for too long.”

“Avoided what?” I glance from him to Tyler and back. What is he talking about?

“The talk I had with the others, getting to know them. Fact is, I don’t know you half as well as I know the others. This has to change.”

Oh fuck. “Not a good idea.”

“Why’s that?”

The urge to get up and run returns. “You know enough.”

More than enough. I have no idea why he took me in, frankly, a smelly street bum with no future.

“I know a few things,” Zane admits. “I talked to Jason.”

“You did? Fuck.” I bury my face in my hands, then scrub them down. “Christ, Zane.”

Fucking hell.

But he continues as if nothing’s up. “It’s the rest I need to know. Things like this attack. Like where you lived before. Where you came from. All that shit.”

I don’t wanna talk about it. Especially not now, when every breath I take reminds me of Amber and how much I miss her, how much her anger and pain cuts into me.

But this is Zane, this is the brotherhood I owe everything to, and if Zane asks, then I’ll talk. And I do. I tell him about the attack, about Simon’s gang, about my time on the street, before and after Madison. About the boy camps, the group homes and foster families I ran away from.

By the time I’m done, my bones ache as if I’ve just gone through it all again—the beatings, the fights, the running and hiding, the violence and fear. I feel sick to my stomach.

God, I wish I could see Amber, wrap myself around her until I feel warm again. She makes the bad go away.

“That’s enough, buddy.” Tyler pats me on the back, and before I let my mouth run away with it—as if often does when I’m stressed—and ask if I get a treat for performing well, he gets up. “Need to return to the shop. See you later.”

Oh, right. Gut me, strew my insides on the ground, stomp on them, and then go back to work.

Nothing new here.

“Have fun,” I snarl and make myself move, start to stand up.

Zane’s hand snags on my wrist and keep me down. Dammit. “Not yet.”

“I need to get to work, too. I’ll be late.” And I’ve lost track of time.

“Why are you working two extra jobs? Rafe’s been asking me that. He covers your rent, so you can focus on your training. I know you need a job for your daily expenses, but, man, you’re wearing yourself out.”

“I need the money.”

“And I need you focused on your training. You’re almost there.” He rubs one shaved side of his head. “What the hell do you need more money for? Gonna buy yourself a limo and ride into the sunset?”

I laugh. Can’t help it, because that’s just… “I don’t want to go anywhere. Hell, this is the first stability I’ve had in my life.” And doesn’t that suck donkey balls? “But I figured I’d be ready for when you kick me out.”

I curse inwardly when the words leave my mouth. What’s wrong with my self-control today? Or rather, my absolute fucking lack of it.

“What makes you think I’ll kick you out?”

“Man, everyone does, sooner or later. Nothing this good ever lasts, and you’ll soon change your mind.”

Like Amber did.

“The hell, J.”

“Look,” I say, “I live on borrowed time. I know it, all right? Like I’m renting a room in someone else’s life. The life of someone more deserving than me. I’m a fraud. Fucked up to hell and back. People get tired of my shit eventually and leave.”

I’m dead serious, and when Zane starts to laugh, it’s like a bucketful of cold water being thrown down my back.

Motherfucking hell.

“What’s so funny?” I mutter. “You asked.”

I jerk when he slaps my back, still laughing. What’s up with all the back slapping?

“Fucker,” he says when he can breathe again, “you’re fucking nuts, you know that?” He slaps me again, then grabs my shoulder, as if guessing I’m one second from shooting to my feet and leaving. “You are special. Believe it. And even if you weren’t, that wouldn’t matter anymore, okay? Because now you are family, and even if you were the stupidest, laziest fuck on Earth—which you’re not, thank God—we still wouldn’t give you up.”

I’m sure I’m gaping at him like a fish, and this time when he slaps my back, I barely feel it. My chest is so tight I wrap an arm around it.

“You serious?” Because I don’t believe he is.

“Fucker, I’ve never been more serious in my life. Invest your money in people. Spend it on people you care for. Buy your girl gifts, flowers, teddy bears, whatever. But never think we’ll throw you out.”

I say nothing. I guess I’m still in shock.

“I’m about to offer you a job, so finish your training already, okay? You’re fucking ready.” Zane stands up, and I’m still sitting, trying to absorb what he said. “And as for Amber… It’s up to you to change your reputation. Hear what I’m saying? Be who you want to be, J, and everyone else will see it, sooner or later.”

***

I won’t give up.

The thought buzzes in my head as the days pass with no word from Amber. I clean the tattoo shop, I practice my art on a new customer, and Zane seems pleased with my work. He tries to talk to me again, but I can’t deal with that shit right now.

I need Amber to talk to me, need to clear this up, no matter what happens afterward. No matter if she decides she’s had enough of me and walks away anyway.

Who would blame her? Not me.

But goddammit, it hurts. Never thought it could hurt so much. You’d think a guy who had his world come crashing around his ears so many times would feel nothing.

Instead, I feel too much. Since Zane and Rafe brought me here, since I got a place to live and an art to learn, the numbness I’d perfected shattered, and since I met her…

Yeah, since I met her, I can’t stop the smile spreading on my face at the thought of seeing her, or the knife twisting in my chest at the thought I’ll never be with her again.

So I deal with it the only way I know how—killing myself working my two jobs, training at the gym, taking over the others’ shifts to clean the shop. Making jokes, teasing, pretending nothing’s wrong.

Nothing’s fucking wrong. The world sucks. That’s the way it is. You know it, so take it like a man.

Right.

Not that I didn’t try talking to the guys at first. Monday after the wedding, down at Damage Control, when they showed up giving me the stink-eye. I gave them my version of the events.

They didn’t seem impressed.

In fact, Micah looked like he wanted to punch the living daylights out of me and held himself back with difficulty. When I tried explaining what went down, he called me a fucking douchebag and stalked away. He’s been avoiding me ever since. Fuck knows what Ev told him happened.

Shane’s glare could cut through metal. Now that I know he wants Cassie it makes sense. Doesn’t make it any easier, though.