Chapter Forty
I SAT IN my office long after I’d stopped pretending to work, the glow from the monitors casting pale, sickly light across the stacks of invoices spread out in front of me.
Numbers blurred together. Dates meant nothing.
My eyes kept driftin’ back to the security feeds, the fluorescent hum overhead gnawing at nerves that were already worn thin.
On one of the screens, I saw Lark.
She’d stepped outside.
No jacket. Arms crossed tight over her chest like she was bracin’ against an imagined cold. She wasn’t takin’ out trash. Wasn’t talkin’ to anyone. Just standin’ there in the alley, still as stone, starin’ off into nothin’.
Her shoulders were hunched. Her posture closed in on itself. The look on her face wasn’t just tired.
It was heavy.
That familiar ache flared in my chest, strong and unwelcome.
Why the hell won’t she talk to me?
I leaned back in my chair, scrubbin’ a hand over my face. I’d given her space all damn day, tellin’ myself it was the right thing. That she’d come to me when she was ready. But watchin’ her like that, alone and folded in on herself, made somethin’ inside me start to unravel.
“Dammit,” I muttered.
I shoved the papers aside and yanked open the desk drawer. The whiskey bottle waited there, half empty, label worn from use. The glass sat beside it like an old habit I hadn’t bothered to break. I poured a shot. Then another.
The burn slid down my throat, harsh and biting.
Didn’t touch the knot in my chest.
Maybe I should talk to Daddy. The thought came uninvited, and that alone told me how far gone I was.
He’d always known how to talk to people, how to listen without makin’ it feel like an interrogation.
He’d know how to handle Lark without pushin’ her so hard she shut me out completely.
But even as the thought settled, another truth pressed in.
She was slippin’.
I could feel it. The same way you feel a bike start to fishtail before you lose control. Subtle. Dangerous. And not knowin’ why was startin’ to spiral me out.
A knock hit the door, loud enough to snap my head up.
“Yeah?” I called, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.
The door creaked open, and Roxanne stepped in like she’d been invited. Hips swayin’. Smile sharp and smug. The kind that always made my skin crawl.
“Hey, Chain,” she said, voice smooth as oil. “Can we talk?”
I stood slowly, already braced for trouble. “About what?” I asked flat. “Anything goin’ on out front goes through Gatsby.”
“The problem I have,” she said, takin’ a step closer, “can only be solved by you.”
Before I could even process the words, she reached for the hem of her shirt and yanked it up over her head, tossin’ it aside like a challenge. Her shorts followed, slidin’ down her legs to pool at her feet.
She stood there in her bra and panties, chin lifted, eyes bright with expectation.
My stomach turned hard.
“Get dressed,” I said cold. “And get the fuck outta my office.”
She laughed under her breath, fingers already movin’ behind her back. “C’mon, Chain. You didn’t mind before.”
The bra hit the floor.
Something hot and violent surged up my spine. I grabbed her arm, hard enough that I knew it’d leave a mark, ready to haul her straight out—
And then her other arm snapped around my neck, draggin’ me forward into the heat of her body.
The door opened.
Time didn’t just slow.
It stopped.
“Chain…”
Lark’s voice cracked the air like glass shatterin’.
I turned.
Just in time to see it land.
Her face went blank. Not angry. Not loud. Just empty. Like somethin’ shut off behind her eyes so fast it left nothing behind.
That look hit harder than any punch I’d ever taken.
“Lark—” I shoved Roxanne away with more force than I meant to. She hit the floor with a grunt, but I didn’t even glance her way. “Lark, wait—”
But she was already movin’.
Already gone.
The door closed behind her, the sound echoing too loud in the small space.
I stood there with my fists clenched at my sides, blood roaring in my ears, heart slamming like it was tryin’ to break free. Roxanne sat on the floor, propped back on her palms, bare chest rising and falling with laughter she didn’t even try to hide.
“You’re fired,” I said through my teeth. “Get the hell outta my bar before I forget you’re a woman.”
She scoffed. “You can’t fire me. I didn’t do anythin’ we haven’t done before. Hell, half the women in this place—”
I stepped toward her slow, deliberate, every muscle wound tight.
“What’s going on?” Gatsby’s voice cut in from the doorway, sharp and wary.
I didn’t look away from Roxanne. “Get her out,” I snarled. “Now. Before I do somethin’ I swore I never would.”
She scrambled to her feet, grabbin’ her bra without botherin’ to put it on. “Go on,” she hissed as she brushed past me. “Pretend you’re not exactly what folks say you are. Women in this town know better.”
I walked past her like she didn’t exist.
Out into the noise of the bar.
Lark was already behind the counter, movin’ on autopilot. Pourin’ drinks. Smilin’ when spoken to. Mechanical and precise, like she’d shoved everything she felt into a locked box and buried it deep.
I crossed the room in long strides and caught her arm. “Lark. Roxanne set that up. It’s not what it looked like.”
She didn’t flinch. Just turned those calm, unreadable eyes on me. “You don’t owe me an explanation,” she said evenly. “We haven’t defined anything. I don’t get to be mad.”
“Don’t do that,” I murmured. “Don’t shut down on me.”
She exhaled slow, gaze drifting to the bottles behind the bar like I was just another customer. “I hear what people say about you, Chain. About the women. They come in here loud on purpose, hoping you’ll notice.”
A beat.
“I’ve been preparing myself for this.”
“For what?” I asked quietly.
“For you moving on.”
I reached for her chin, forced her to look at me. “I got a past. I’m not denyin’ it. But don’t stand there and pretend you don’t know how I feel about you.”
“I’m not pretending,” she said simply.
Then she stepped away, grabbin’ a bar towel. “I’ve got tables to check. Ruby’s giving me a ride tonight.”
She walked off with her spine straight and her walls higher than I’d ever seen ’em.
I let her go.
Not because I wanted to.
But because I knew I couldn’t reach her here. Not with eyes watchin’. Not with Roxanne’s poison still hangin’ in the air.
This wasn’t over.