Chapter 3 #2
The mood is high and infectious. I feel it, too, that deep pulse of family that runs through nights comparable to this. For a moment, I let it settle in, let myself remember why I bleed for this brotherhood.
Then my eyes drift again.
Ruby’s cheeks are flushed from drink and laughter. She covers her mouth when she laughs, trying not to draw attention, but it only makes her stand out more. She is innocent, sweet, and out of place, yet it’s fitting, as if she were meant to be here all along.
And I feel it again.
That pull.
“Hey, brother,” Kiwi says, dragging my gaze back. His grin is sharp. “You plan on starin’ holes through the poor girl all night?”
The table chuckles, low but not mean.
My jaw tightens. I don’t respond and take a slow swallow of whiskey, letting it burn.
Nova pours himself a shot of whiskey. “Nothin’ to be ashamed of, brother. We’ve all been there.”
Silence stretches for a beat. I keep my face blank, giving them nothing. I know they don’t mean any harm, but nevertheless, being under the microscope fucking bothers me. Luckily, my brothers let it go. That’s the thing about these men, they know when to push and when to shut the fuck up.
Riggs breaks the tension, tossing in his chips. “All right. Next hand, the loser is cleaning the bathrooms in the morning. Full detail.”
Groans rise, but laughter follows, and the focus shifts back to the game.
I lean back, glass in hand, the burn in my gut heavier than the whiskey alone. I hate that even with liquor flooding my veins, I can’t scrub Ruby from my mind.
The evening rolls late into the night. The games keep going, punishments piling up until everyone is doubled over with laughter.
Nova ends up with glitter smeared across his beard, courtesy of Promise’s makeup bag.
Everest, after one brutal hand, has to do shots of Tabasco mixed with vodka, his grimace enough to send the room into hysterics.
Riggs somehow never loses a round, whether it’s due to luck or discipline, it’s hard to tell.
By the time I push my chair back, the room is still thumping with noise and heat. My head is heavy with liquor. I know I’ve had too much, but I don’t give a fuck. I stand, stretching out the stiffness in my shoulders. “I’m done,” I say, voice rough. “Unless anyone needs me.”
Riggs lifts his beer, casual as ever. “Catch ya in the mornin’.”
That’s all it takes. No one pressures me, no one follows.
I head down the hall, boots heavy on the worn wood, my room waiting at the end. The second the door shuts behind me, the noise of the party dulls. Just the silence, the weight pressing down, and me.
I strip down, roughly shedding my cut, shirt, boots, and jeans, until I’m bare and stroll into the bathroom. The shower hisses when I crank the faucet on, steam rising fast, fogging the mirror before I can glance at my face.
Hot water hits my skin, beating down hard. I brace my hands against the tile, head bowed, letting the heat scald the liquor haze. For a moment, I try to clear my head. Try to let the whiskey bleed out with the sweat.
But it doesn’t work because she is there.
Ruby.
Her big blue eyes. The shy way she dropped her keys into my palm, skin brushing mine, lightning snapping through me like I was still alive in ways I swore were dead.
My chest heaves before my fist slams the tile once, hard.
Then my hand drops lower.
I stroke myself slowly at first, grip tightening as I picture her, with those curls tumbling loose, lips parted, eyes wide with something I shouldn’t want aimed at me.
I pump harder, groaning low, water pounding against my back.
Every image of her feeds the fire, with her small frame pinned beneath me, her soft gasp in my ear, and her nails dragging down my chest.
Heat coils low, building sharply, uncontrollably. My strokes turn rougher and desperate, chasing a release I shouldn’t want. With a grunt, I spill against the tile, hot water washing it down the drain, leaving me trembling and empty.
It doesn’t help.
It never helps.
The ache doesn’t fade. The guilt doesn’t loosen. Instead, shame burns deeper, raw and choking. I press my forehead against the wall, water streaming over me, trying to breathe past it.
I am betraying a ghost.
I finally kill the water, step out, and stare into the fogged-up mirror. I don’t wipe it clear because I don’t want to see the man staring back at me.
After drying off, I collapse onto the bed, whiskey still churning in my blood. My body is heavy, but my mind won’t stop. It spins with flashes of Ruby—her shy laugh, and the way she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t watching. I fight sleep, but it wins, dragging me down hard.
Ruby is standing in front of me, hair catching the light, curls tumbling wild and golden. She smiles, shyly and sweetly, and whispers my name. Tension coils beneath my ribs before I reach for her, and when I touch her cheek, her features blur.
Suddenly, it isn’t Ruby anymore.
It’s my wife. She’s glowing, belly round with the life we created. She laughs, hand pressed over the swell, her eyes full of everything I lost. I try to hold on and keep her there, but the sound twists, sharpening into a scream.
Blood stains her dress. Her skin goes pale. She’s reaching for me, but I can’t get to her. My feet are buried in concrete, my hands useless. Shadows close in, swallowing her whole. Her scream turns guttural and broken until there’s nothing left but the sound of my heart hammering in my ears.
I jerk awake, drenched in sweat, my chest heaving like I’ve been running for miles.
The room is spinning, whiskey still poisoning my veins.
I sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, and head hanging low.
My hands shake as I drag them over my face, trying to wipe the nightmare away, but it sticks.
Ruby’s blue eyes.
My wife.
Both ghosts, both ripping me apart from the inside.