30. 30
30
Raven
V iper never showed at the clubhouse, not that I was aware of anyway. The few drinks I had kept me from looking over my shoulder every five minutes to check for him, but it wasn’t enough to make me relax completely.
It was a better time than I expected, though. My time in the ring with Reaper helped with that. When we made it home, I collapsed into bed, hoping for a long dreamless sleep. Instead, I got to listen to Nix and Raptor for an hour and a half through our thin walls.
I don’t hate them for what they have, what I’ll likely never experience, but all I wanted was to come home and pass out. That’s probably why I’m so testy this morning. That or the hard truth I can’t get out of my head. The one I thought I’d prove wrong with Jesse.
I’m not cut out for happily ever after or love and fairy tales. Last night only proved that. Jesse was the closest I’ve ever gotten to feeling something like what Nix and Raptor have. What my mom and Viper somehow found for a short time. When Jesse walked away with that girl, and nothing stirred inside me, I knew.
Feelings like that don’t exist for people like me—the heartless wretches of the world. No, we’re cut out for lives filled with other things. Anger, violence, adrenaline.
I guess I’m more like Reaper in that aspect. Jesus, who thought I’d ever think that shit?
But it’s true, I doubt he’ll ever ride off into the sunset with some chick who tamed the feral beast . The two of us . . . we’re likely to wind up alone and bitter till the very end. For some reason, that doesn’t scare me.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
The bar is slow. Only a small crowd of regulars and a handful of the MC are here, giving me time to restock and catch up on cleaning. I haven’t talked to Jesse since the party. He didn’t come to the house that night, unsurprisingly, and has been avoiding me most of the shift, casting guilty glances my way.
I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want him to bring it up and make things awkward, but I have a feeling he's going to make me talk about it. Make me say it out loud. And damn it, I'm right . . .
“Hey, Rae,” Jesse says timidly.
I take a deep breath, bracing myself for the bullshit conversation that's about to take place. “Hey, Jes.”
From the corner of my eye, I can see him shifting uncomfortably, looking down with his hands in his pockets. “Are you mad at me?” he asks.
Here we go.
I shake my head. “I’m not mad at you. I have no reason to be,” I tell him honestly, hoping that will put an end to whatever he's thinking about saying next.
It doesn’t.
“It’s just,” he starts, “the other night. Me and that girl—”
He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t want you to be mad. It didn’t mean anything.”
I shrug, growing more irritated with the conversation the longer it continues. “It’s no big deal, J. Really. I’m not mad at you for it. I told you to go with her.”
A short huff breezes from his mouth as he leans against the bar. “I know, but afterward, I thought about it. Thought maybe you were testing me, and I failed. I feel like I fucked up my chance with you.”
Damn it.
My eyes close tight as I try to steel myself for what I need to say. When they open, I set down the glass I'm drying, turning to Jesse. “I don’t do that shit, Jesse. If I didn’t want you to go upstairs with her, I wouldn’t have told you to do it.”
He takes a minute to let my words sink in before he says, “So what does that mean for us?”
With a sigh, I look him in the face. “It means, if the mood strikes, we can keep having fun, but that’s it. I’m not the relationship type, J. I need you to be on board with that.”
For a second, he lets the sting of my rejection show in his eyes, but it vanishes before it can settle anywhere deep. “Sooo, we’re good?” he asks with a half-smile.
My lips quirk as I nod. “We’re good.”
Jesse lets out a relieved chuckle as he pulls me into an obnoxious embrace, and the tension melts from his bones. “Fuck yeah, I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
As he lets me go, I hold up a hand, pointing at him with one finger. “So we’re clear, before you and I have any more fun, I need to see a clean sheet from Doc. Our trysts don’t need to come with nasty little surprises.”
He laughs, nodding in agreement.
When our eyes meet, there's a wave of understanding. If our casual hookups continue at all, they'll be few and far between. His gaze holds no glimmer of sadness at the fact; if anything, there's a hint of relief. What we have to offer each other is more than a temporary good time. Friendship is funny that way.
With a knowing nod, he extends his fist. I meet it with my own, giving him a soft smile. A silent agreement. A promise to never ask one another for more than we're willing to give. Our friendship, our bond, is more important than any short-lived euphoria anyway. And we're both okay with that.
When we look away, I find someone watching us with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Reaper. I bury my growl and go back to work. Nosey mother fucker.
The door opens, welcoming a group of women who step into the dark interior, banding together as if someone might steal one of them away. Jesse grins at them, coaxing them closer until they relax enough to take up the empty seats at his end of the bar.
I zone out, ignoring them as I continue drying the now-clean glassware. With Jesse entertaining the customers, I can work without interruption. Or so I think.
A gruff voice cuts through my solitude, jerking me into the present. “So, you two are done.” A statement, not a question.
My brows furrow as I look up, finding Reaper studying me. The usual retort wrapped in smart-assed sarcasm isn’t what leaves my lips as I reply, “There was never anything to be done with.”
There's something curious in his gaze as he watches me. It's unnerving. “What’s it to you anyway?” I ask, not bothering to keep the irritation from my voice.
Reaper shakes his head, spearing me with a sharp stare. “It’s not.”
Before I can say anything, he stands and moves to a table far from the bar, joining some of the guys from the MC. I roll my eyes and wipe down the bar top, ignoring the table at the other end of the building.
When I check the room a while later, a pair of dark eyes are once again trained on me. I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking away first. It's a dare, a quiet challenge, and neither of us wants to lose.