CHAPTER 23
Emotions can be tricky and deceiving when heightened or buried for too long.
The minute I sit down at my vanity and catch my reflection in the mirror, regret slams into me. Everything I just did plays on a loop, each moment a reminder of how I let my emotions take complete control and let myself unravel.
“Oh, God.” I press my palms into my face. It does nothing to stop the panic from rising in my chest. I royally fucked this up. Let the old pain run wild, unchecked.
Goose’s glare flashes through my mind, that furious look as I kneeled defiantly in front of him on the bar.
I groan into my hands, pressing harder, trying to block out the memory, but it lingers stubbornly.
My breathing is shallow and erratic. It takes a minute before I can calm it enough to pull myself together.
Grabbing some makeup remover, I get to work on my face. When I finish, I drop my hands and stare at my reflection, eyes searching the glass for something—anything—that makes sense. “What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself fired?”
The words sound foreign, hollow.
A soft voice pulls me back. “You okay?”
I jump at the sound, gasping as my heart kicks against my ribcage. Raven stands in the doorway, her presence as quiet as a shadow.
“Yeah.” My voice cracks. “I don’t know what came over me.” I try for a casual shrug, but it falls flat. “I’ll apologize to Goose. That went a bit far.”
Raven steps inside, her heels a barely there click on the dressing room floor.
She moves with a confidence that’s both intimidating and calming, like she’s never once had to fake being sure of herself.
She pulls a chair over, spins it around, and sits facing me, her dark bangs hiding part of her face, but her eyes—sharp and knowing—miss nothing.
I swallow hard, avoiding her gaze. She crosses her legs, her skirt riding up slightly, revealing a tattoo of a starry night that stretches along her thigh. Her heel bounces lazily, like she’s got all the time in the world to wait for me to spill my guts.
“Be real with me.” Her voice is gentle but firm.
I let out a shaky breath, my eyes dropping to my hands, fingers clenching and unclenching in my lap.
There’s something about her that makes me want to be real.
Maybe it’s the way she sees through all the bullshit.
She doesn’t need to ask twice. She already knows I’m wearing a mask nearly every day I’m here, and that scares me more than anything.
“I don’t know why I did it,” I admit, the words brittle, breaking apart as they leave my mouth. “I fucked up.” I shrug, a half-hearted motion. “You don’t have to say it. I know I did.”
Her gaze doesn’t falter. “That—” She gestures with a thumb over her shoulder, pointing back toward the stage. “—that was raw, exceptional, and a glimpse of the real you.”
A half-sob, half-laugh escapes me, and I shake my head. “The real me?”
She doesn’t hesitate, her hand reaching out, fingertips grazing the ends of my hair before letting the strands fall back into place.
“Everyone else might see this”—she motions to me in my pink fluffy robe, but meaning my carefully curated exterior—“but I don’t think this is the version of you that matters. ”
Her hand falls over mine, a squeeze, gentle but reassuring.
“But tonight, you’re here, right on the surface.
Whatever brought that kind of emotion out…
it’s destructive.” She smiles softly, eyes glinting with something close to approval.
“But good. Because this is the person I want to get to know. This is who I think I could call a friend.”
I swipe a tear from my cheek before it can fall, my throat tightening. “God, Raven. I danced on the fucking bar.” It comes out as a half-laugh, half-sob.
She chuckles, a dark, quiet sound, the absurdity of the situation hitting us both at once.
She gets up, grabs a few tissues, and passes them to me. I wipe up my face.
When I’m done, I cover my face with my hands for a long minute, as I pull myself back together.
“Earlier, in the dressing room… the girls were talking.” She nods, as if she already knows, or maybe she suspects this to be the reason.
“They said some things mainly about Mateo, and it made me think Finn—that Goose—isn’t as unattached as I thought. It made me feel like…”
I trail off, my words failing me, but Raven’s hand returns to cover mine.
“Like what you two shared in those small moments meant nothing,” she finishes for me. “That it was all a lie. That it made everything wrong instead of something good.”
I nod, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat.
“Mateo, well, that’s Finn’s story to tell, but him being in the picture shouldn’t change how you feel about him.”
“It wasn’t just about him. It was the thought of his mother and the fact that he never told me about him.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve seen how he looks at you, Lily. How you look at him. Do you think he’d do that if he had any interest in someone else?” Her words are soft but hit hard.
My throat feels tight. I clear it, my voice hoarse with emotion when I finally speak.
“I… no. It’s just…one of those things, you know?
Something so strong you can’t contain it, even if you try.
Like the anger and jealousy just grabbed me by the throat and wouldn’t let go.
I couldn’t think clearly. Uhhhh… don’t ask me to explain it, because I don’t think I can. ”
“I’m not asking you to,” she says. “And maybe it shouldn’t be contained or explained.”
I blink at her, confused. “No?”
“No.” She leans back, eyes steady on mine.
“I just want to know what you’ll do about it.
I can’t tell you with absolute certainty that Goose is unattached, but I can tell you this…
he doesn’t react to anyone like he does with you.
He’s not attached to anyone or anything enough to be this pissed, this…
affected. From the moment you showed up, he’s been off-kilter.
And he could use someone in his life who cares enough to shake him up. Make him take notice.”
A sad smile tugs at my lips, unbidden. There’s a weight in my chest, something heavy and melancholy, but at the same time, I feel lighter. Because someone finally noticed my pain. Someone saw it, and they’re not judging me.
“You have my full permission, Lily,” Raven says, her smile turning wry. “Shake that man’s world. Wake him up. Make him earn you and prove he’s worthy.”
I let out a small, bitter laugh. “What about the club’s fraternizing policy?”
She leans back, crossing her arms as she does. “Stupidest goddamn rule. Smash it to bits, Lil’. Smash it to fucking bits.”
“And the mother?”
“You’re not going to know until you ask.”
I raise a brow at this.
She grins. “So ask him.”
I should have expected it. I didn’t, though, and that’s on me. So when I exit the club through the back entrance and hear “What the fuck was that?” shouted at me, I nearly jump out of my skin.
Goose pushes off from the outer wall and rounds on me with so much fury that I take a cautious step back.
His lips are pressed in a tight line, and his salt-and-pepper hair now hangs loose around his face, making him look darker, more dangerous.
In a heartbeat, he’s towering over me in a way that sends my pulse skittering.
I stumble over my response. “I’m sorry.”
He rakes his hair back and holds it. His chest rises and falls in heavy breaths, his eyes staying locked on me. “You’re sorry?”
I open my mouth, but he cuts me off.
Dropping his arm, he says, “Sorry, doesn’t fucking cut it. I’d fire someone on the spot for that shit and not give a damn. So give me a good fucking reason why I shouldn’t. Why the fuck would you do something like that?”
I swallow, trying to keep my voice steady, giving him as much honesty as possible. “I got some shitty news before I went on tonight.”
“That’s no—”
“I know!” I shout, cutting him off as my words tumble out in a rush. “I know it’s a stupid excuse. You don’t think I know that? I’ve been telling myself exactly that since I stepped off stage. I let my emotions take over. I tried not to. But…”
His glare sharpens. “That shit doesn’t fly with me.”
I shake my head, frustration creeping into my voice as I try to explain. “I’m not giving you an excuse. I’m telling you the truth. I’ve never told anyone this, so give me a minute.”
He crosses his arms tight around his chest, his stance unyielding, but his gaze softens just a fraction, giving me room to continue.
“Even in my head, this sounds dumb,” I mutter.
“Just say it.”
I drop my bag to the ground and lean against the building, taking a deep breath before I open my mouth again. “You’re probably gonna think I’m crazy, and honestly, telling you this is probably the last thing I should be doing, because it might just make it worse.”
He steps closer, his heat radiating toward me. His presence pulls my focus away from the nervousness bubbling up inside. His gaze—sharp and intense—makes it harder to get the words out, but I push through.
“Music, dancing… it’s not just performance for me. When I dance, it’s like I’m pulled somewhere deep inside my head, and what comes out is all heart, muscle memory, and raw emotion. I’m there, but it’s not me at the same time. Everything just… takes over.”
His blue eyes bore into me, but they’re no longer just angry. Something else lingers in them now—something I can’t name.
“On stage, it’s different. I’m usually in control while performing. But when I’m feeling too much, when the emotions get twisted up with the music… I lose control. It all comes out. I try, but sometimes I can’t stop it.”
His jaw tightens. He closes the distance between us, until we share a small, intimate space. My heart is racing, but I force myself to keep talking.