Chapter 19
Boone
I know something’s wrong before they even speak from the way they walk into the room.
Rook strides in first, as always, shoulders tight, jaw locked.
Cruz is just behind him, not joking, not smirking, which is how I know this isn’t small.
Sloane comes last, that’s what really sets off my alarm bells.
She doesn’t hang back anymore, not unless it’s something big.
“What is it?” I ask.
No one answers right away—guilt radiating from them. Then Sloane steps forward. “We need to tell you something.”
My stomach tightens, my mind immediately goes to Jessy, but that can’t be right. Sloane wouldn’t be this calm. I nod once. “Then tell me.”
Rook exhales, slow and controlled. “Briggs made me an offer,” he says.
That’s not what I expected. I blink. “For what?”
I know when Rook is feeling guilty, when he knows he’s in the wrong, he’s deliberately vague. “The land.”
I frown slightly. “When?”
Rook’s eyes meet mine. He can’t hide the truth any longer, ripping it like a Band-Aid. “Eight months ago.”
Eight months is a long time to be learning about this now. “And?” I ask, my mouth chewing over the word slowly.
He doesn’t answer. Cruz does. “We didn’t tell you.”
I stop moving, spine straightening. I want to say, “No shit.” Instead, I repeat his words slowly, “Didn’t tell me,” I mutter, shaking my head and resuming polishing my bike, buying myself time to try to cool the rage that’s threatening to explode.
“No,” Rook says.
I turn to look between them, then at Sloane, wondering how she fits into this. She doesn’t look away. Of course, she doesn’t. The pity I see in her eyes sharpens my anger toward Rook and Cruz.
“Explain,” I say sharply.
Rook straightens slightly, unused to being the one getting a dressing down. He can dish out judgment, but he hates being the one in the wrong. “The club was in debt,” he says. “The offer would’ve cleared it.”
I refuse to let him skirt around the issue, to hide behind excuses. “And?”
“I considered it,” he finally admits, the admission heavy.
My teeth groan as I grind them together. “You considered selling the land.”
“Yes.” Rook doesn’t try to hide behind his words now.
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“No.”
I nod slowly, trying to process what he’s saying while the anger is rising inside me, fast and hot. My ears thrum, my vision blurs. “And you?” I ask, whipping around to face Cruz.
He shifts slightly. “I found out after,” he says. “We agreed to bury it.”
Something inside me snaps. It’s not loud or explosive, but the steady place I usually sit in is gone, the calm and control I’ve spent so long curating slip from my grasp. “You buried it,” I growl.
“We handled it—” Cruz starts.
“No,” I cut him off. My voice is sharp now, hard and alien. “You hid it.”
They don’t respond. There’s nothing they can say.
I take a step forward. The rag drops from my hand.
The guys hold their ground but fail to hide the slight flinch.
Rook and Cruz may scrap like kids, but I’ve never done that with them; they know that once I lose control, the fallout isn’t good.
This is the first time they’ve been on the receiving end, though.
“You decided I didn’t need to know,” I continue.
“That’s not—” Rook begins.
“That’s exactly what it is,” I snap.
My chest feels tight, too tight, there’s no room for the air I’m trying to pull in. “You didn’t trust me,” I say, the truth of it cutting like a knife.
“We were protecting the club,” Cruz says, fists clenched, body in a defensive stance, prepared to fight if he must.
“And I’m not part of that?” I shoot back.
Rook looks wounded, but I refuse to feel guilty. “Of course you are—”
“Then why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
No one answers because there’s no good answer that they can give that will fix this. I drag a hand over my face, pacing, trying to burn off the edge that’s building under my skin.
“You sat on this,” I say, turning back to Rook. “You made the call alone.”
“I didn’t take the deal,” he says, folding his arms.
“That’s not the point. The point is you thought I couldn’t handle it.” I step closer, looming over him. Sloane hovers to one side, uncertain.
Rook juts his chin up. “That’s not what I thought.”
I’m not letting him off easy. “Then what did you think?”
Again, he has no good answer for that; he breaks eye contact first.
I don’t stop, though. “You made a huge decision that impacts us all without consulting anyone, without confiding in your best friend. Then Sloane shows up,” I say, jerking my chin toward Sloane. “And you still don’t say anything.”
Rook’s jaw flexes. “We didn’t know how it connected yet—” The fact that he knew what I meant exposes his lie.
“You knew enough,” I cut in.
Rook winces, the truth of my words landing.
“You knew Briggs wanted the land, our land,” I continue. “You knew he was circling like a vulture, and you let her walk into it blind.”
For the first time, Rook’s resolve falters, and I see the fallible man beneath the tough facade. “I didn’t—”
“You did.” The words crack through the space between us, sharp and final.
Sloane steps forward slightly, her hand held out as if to try to touch me, but falling short, like I’m a wild beast. “Boone—”
“No,” I say, softer this time but no less firm. “You don’t try to fix this for them.”
Her mouth presses into a thin line, but she stops; she understands.
I look back at Rook. “You invited her in here, offered her our protection,” I say. “You let her think this was just about her case.”
“It was,” he says. “I didn’t know Briggs’ involvement with Escar.”
“It wasn’t,” I fire back. “Not entirely. Not from the start. You might not have known the connection, but you knew the clubhouse wasn’t the safe haven she needed.” The truth sits there, ugly and unavoidable. “If Sloane knew,” I continue, my voice dropping now, heavier, “She would’ve left.”
Sloane looks at me, a flicker of acknowledgment in her eyes as she realizes the truth of my words.
“She would’ve taken Jessy and walked,” I say. “And they’d be safe.” The word safe sticks in my throat. “Jessy almost got taken from us, from her mother,” I say, quieter now. “I would rather not have them here at all,” I add, voice rough, “Than risk losing them like that.”
The room goes still. Sloane’s eyes are on me, soft, pained, and understanding all at once. I mean every word.
I look at Rook again. “You didn’t just hide the truth,” I say. “You chose to put us all at risk.”
His expression darkens. “That’s not fair.”
“No,” I say. “It’s accurate.” Then the thing that’s been sitting between us, the thing I didn’t want to say comes out anyway. “You wanted her,” I say. “You saw her, you wanted her, and you made the call to keep her here even when it wasn’t safe enough.”
“That’s not—”
I square up to him. “You manipulated her.”
Rook steps forward. “You think I’m capable of doing that to her? That I’d put my desires ahead of my promise to protect her?” he snarls.
“I think you wanted her enough to justify keeping her here.”
For a moment, I think Rook is about to punch me. I welcome the idea, needing to feel something other than the crushing sense of betrayal. But then he slumps, looking over at Sloane, his eyes soft.
“I love her,” he yells.
Everything stops. The words don’t echo. They fall to the ground like stones. Rook doesn’t take them back. He sags with relief, like he’s been holding them in too long, and they finally broke loose.
Sloane’s breath catches. “You—”
“I love you,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He takes her hand in his gently, looking into her eyes. The moment is so tender, so real, I have to look away, feeling as if I’m an outsider intruding on an intimate moment.
Cruz looks stunned; for once, he’s speechless.
We all knew that Rook loved Sloane, but hearing it is different; it changes everything. Anger curls at my edges, like paper burning. Rook has managed to deflect, turning this into a grand romantic gesture of love rather than owning up to what he did.
“I love you too,” Sloane says. Her words punch me in the gut.
But then she turns to look at Cruz and me. “I love all of you.” She steps closer, taking my hand in hers, so soft and small.
I swallow hard. I’ve known for a long time that I love her, too.
I’ve tried to ignore it, to run from it, to pretend it’s not real, but it’s there, it’s always been there.
If I were Rook, would I have made a different decision?
Would I have been strong enough to send her away?
I think I would, if it meant she’d be safe.
But can I blame him for failing to do that?
For wanting to do everything in his power to keep her close, to protect her himself, even when he brings trouble to our door?
“I love you too,” I say. The words come out rough, foreign. Sloane moves closer, hoping this moment will unite us again and heal the cracks between the guys and me. But it doesn’t fix it, it doesn’t change anything, or erase the past. I step back, shaking my head.
“I can’t,” I say, my voice thick.
Sloane’s expression shifts. “Boone—”
“I can’t do this right now.” I turn and walk away without looking back. If I stay, I’m going to say something I regret. I might ruin this beautiful, fragile thing we all share, I might lose my friends and the only woman I’ve ever loved.
I don’t go far. I slip outside, in search of air and space, in need of clarity. The night is cool, the distant hum of the world continuing as if nothing has changed. I lean against the wall and close my eyes, breathing deeply. I haven’t smoked in years, but I could sure use one now.
I try using the meditation techniques my therapist showed me, but it doesn’t help. Nothing does.
I hear her soft footsteps approaching, and I don’t need to look to know it’s her. “Sloane.”
She stops beside me, standing close but not touching me. She hesitates, as if worried I’ll push her away, as if I could ever do that. Then her hand finds mine, warm and steady.
“I meant what I said,” she murmurs.
“I know. So did I.”