Chapter 22 #2
Her smile drops first. Then her eyes. Then that awful little blank look slides into place, the one women wear when they’re trying very hard to make sure no one sees the part that hurts.
It works.
And the second it does, I feel like the lowest piece of shit in the room. Because that’s the thing about acting out of pain. Sometimes you hit exactly where you meant to.
And that doesn’t feel like victory.
It feels like rot.
Tasha’s still talking. Still touching my shoulder. Still warm and real and entirely not the person I want anywhere near me right now.
But it’s too late to undo the first hit.
Allie saw it.
And worse…she believed it.
She looks away first. And in that one tiny movement, in the way she immediately turns back toward Shaina like she can just rejoin the conversation and pretend nothing happened, I know I’ve done real damage.
Again.
Because apparently that’s my only consistent skill set where she’s concerned.
“Jimmy.” Blaze’s voice comes low from beside me. Warning. Disgusted. A little skeptical too.
I don’t look at him. Because if I do, I’m going to have to admit out loud that I did exactly what it looked like I did and I don’t have a single decent explanation for it.
Tasha finally notices I’m not actually paying attention to her and shifts slightly in my lap, glancing up at me with one brow raised. “You good?”
No. Not even remotely.
“Fine,” I mutter.
She studies me for half a second, then follows my gaze just enough to catch the shape of the room.
The women at the island. Allie not looking this way anymore. Shaina’s face going a little too still. Ana’s mouth flattening like she’s one bad second from throwing a glass at my head.
Tasha is not stupid. That’s probably why she untangles herself from me almost immediately.Not offended. Just uninterested in being used as a prop in whatever ugly emotional shit she just accidentally walked into.
“Yeah,” she says, sliding back to her feet. “I’m gonna go find someone less complicated to flirt with.”
Blaze barks a laugh.
I drag a hand over my face and say, “Good call.”
She pats my shoulder once, almost pitying, and disappears toward the kitchen like she’d rather take her chances with the prospects than sit through whatever this is becoming.
Fair.
I deserve worse.
Blaze turns in his chair to look at me fully now. “You are an unbelievable dumbass.”
I stare straight ahead. “Noted.”
“No, I don’t think you get it.” He gestures toward the island. “That was cartoonishly stupid.”
“Appreciate the feedback.”
“Jimmy.” There’s enough edge in his voice now that I finally look at him. He’s not grinning anymore. Not entertained. Just flat-out irritated. “You trying to make her hate you?”
The answer should be no. It should.
Instead, all I can really say is, “Didn’t think that far ahead.”
“Yeah,” he says dryly. “No shit.”
Across the room, Allie stands. Not abruptly. Not in a way that draws attention.Just smooth and quiet and somehow worse because of it. She says something to Shaina and Ana, picks up her drink, and starts toward the hallway without looking my direction once.
Not once.
That should not feel like a blade going in.
It does. Because she’s not storming off. Not glaring. Not calling me out.
She’s just leaving.
And somehow that’s worse than anger.Anger means there’s still heat there. Still energy. Still enough investment to want a reaction.
This?
This feels like disappointment. And I’d honestly rather she slapped me.
I’m on my feet before I fully realize I’ve moved.
Blaze grabs my forearm hard enough to stop me. “Don’t.”
I look at him.
He doesn’t let go. “Not right now,” he says quietly. “You’ve done enough for one night.”
He’s right. That’s what pisses me off most. Because he’s right and I know it.
If I go after her right now, what the hell am I going to say?
Sorry I acted like a jealous teenager because I’m too emotionally constipated to just admit I’m in love with you?
Not exactly a winning pitch.
So I stay put. Barely.
And watch her disappear down the hall with her shoulders just a little too straight and her head held a little too high in that way women do when they’re trying not to let the room see what they’re carrying.
Shaina looks over at me then. Just once. And if looks could actually kill, I’d already be in the ground.
Ana’s isn’t much better.
Emma, from the table, catches my eye next. She doesn’t glare. Doesn’t judge. Doesn’t even look surprised.
Which somehow makes me feel even worse.
Because Emma’s expression is all quiet disappointment and tired understanding, like she knows exactly what I just did and exactly how stupid it was, and she’s too grown to even bother pretending otherwise.
Cain, who has clearly clocked enough of the aftermath to piece together what happened even if he missed the first move, mutters from the table, “Jesus, man.”
I don’t answer.
Because what is there to say? Nothing useful. Nothing fixable. Nothing that changes the fact that I just took the one woman I can’t stop thinking about and made sure she saw me with someone else purely because I was angry she’s trying to move on from the mess I keep making of her.
That’s not jealousy anymore. That’s sabotage. And the worst part is I didn’t even need anybody else to tell me that.
I already know.
Landon appears from the back room then, one hand still on the office door he just came through, and glances around the room like he can feel the weird energy but hasn’t quite found the source yet.
His eyes land on me. Then the hallway Allie just disappeared down. His expression shifts slightly. Not enough to say he knows. Enough to say he’s noticed something.
That alone makes my stomach turn.
Because if there is one man in this club I should never be dragging into this ugly mess, it’s him. He’s my brother in every way that matters except blood. And I’m standing here acting like a half-feral idiot over his little sister.
Outstanding.
Landon lifts a brow. “Everything good?”
Blaze answers before I can.“No.”
I cut him a look. He ignores it.
Landon studies us both for a second, then says, “Should I ask?”
“Not if you value your peace,” Blaze mutters.
That earns him another glare from me and a suspicious look from Landon, but before any of that can spiral into a conversation I absolutely do not want to have, Emma says softly, “Amy, baby, go wash up for bed.”
Bless her.
Amy hops down from the table with only minimal complaining, and Cain gets up to carry Jason upstairs while Brooke starts asking Carter if he thinks babies can sense stress in a room and Kya immediately launches into a passionate argument about how of course they can because “my kid absolutely knows when his dad is being dumb.”
Normal life rushes back in around the edges. Noise. Movement. The rhythm of family. And somehow I’m still standing dead center in the middle of it feeling like I just set fire to the only good thing I’ve ever actually wanted.
Blaze drains the rest of his beer and stands, clapping one hand once against my shoulder on his way past. “Congratulations,” he says flatly. “You made it worse.” Then he leaves me there with it. And he’s right too.
That’s the brutal part.
Because I didn’t just make it worse in some vague, abstract way. I know exactly what I did. I took the hurt and distance that was already there and added humiliation to it. Added proof. Added one more reason for Allison to finally decide she’s done letting me get close enough to matter.
And if she does?
If tonight is the thing that finally pushes her past the point of no return?
That’s on me.
Not timing. Not fear. Not circumstance.
Me.
I look down the hallway she disappeared into and feel the full, sick weight of what I’ve done settle into my chest like a brick.
Then I lean back against the wall and stare at absolutely nothing while the clubhouse keeps moving around me like I didn’t just take the mess between me and Allison and make it a hell of a lot harder to come back from.