18. 18
I could name a million places I’d rather be right now.
Like in bed. Sprawled out on the couch. Hell, even the floor would do. Anything would be better than sitting inside an overcrowded pub with the bass so high the distortion threatens to slice your eardrums. Especially right after our first radio show. Yet here we are.
“No, no, no!” Desmond shouts over the music at James. “It’s lick, drink, then suck! Goddamn, you’re terrible at this!”
I swivel in my chair just in time to see James wobble on his stool, barking out a laugh as he follows Desmond’s instructions. Then he tosses the lime onto the table with a slap.
“That’s what I fucking did!” James protests, his cheeks already screaming red. “I licked the stupid salt. Did the shot. Then sucked the bloody lime—just like you said!”
Desmond flings an arm in my direction. “Come on, Jax! Back me up here!”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Nuh-uh. You two leave me out of this,” I say into my bottle before taking a long pull.
Just as I’m about to face the bar again, movement catches the corner of my eye.
It’s Gareth—which is surprising.
I forgot he was even with us to begin with. He insisted on sitting pretty much alone and hasn’t said a bloody word to a single one of us since we’ve been here.
But if he thinks he’s sneaking out of here alone, he’s got another thing coming. Because I sure as hell don’t want to be here, either.
My eyes follow him as he sulks across the floor, then finally props himself lazily against the far wall—just inches away from a blonde in a leather miniskirt.
I don’t know why I care enough to keep my eyes trained on him, but lately, I just don’t recognize him.
I guess I could blame it on the shock that Gareth, the one who tore into Emelia for what she did to me, is now leaning in a little too close to some random blonde.
Yet here he is, acting like he doesn’t have Nora waiting for him and a baby on the way.
The whole thing honestly makes me sick to my stomach.
I watch them talk, the woman twirling her long hair around a manicured finger, giggling at whatever the hell he’s saying. But then he has the nerve to place his hand on her thigh, inching upward—and I’m already out of my seat.
I make it over to them faster than he can lean closer into her neck.
My hands land on his shoulders with a loud clap as I glance at the woman.
“Mind if I steal this bloke?” I ask, but don’t bother waiting for an answer.
He stumbles as I drag him toward the side door, and we spill out into the cold alleyway—one that reeks of garbage that’s been sitting out for months, cigarettes, and fresh vomit.
Perfect combination, if you ask me.
He tries to fight me off, but I just tighten my grip.
“Get your fucking hands off me, Jax,” he sneers, but he’s not slurring.
So he definitely can’t blame this shit on the booze. Not sure if that’s a plus or a minus.
I toss him against the brick wall, not realizing how hard until I hear the unf leave his mouth.
“What the hell are you doing, mate?”
He shrugs—and it makes me want to kick him. “Just living my life.”
I raise a brow, tilting my head. “Tell me, does Nora always give you a weekend pass to feel up strangers? Or is Sunday the only freebie?”
He shrugs. Again.
I scoff, not knowing what to say or do at this point. It’s like he doesn’t have a care in the world for the woman he’s with—or the literal child they created together.
“Mate—”
“Oh, save it, Jax,” he snaps, his face scrunching. “You just don’t get it. You want these things. Allie wants these things. Me? I never did. Ever.” He shakes his head slowly as tears start to form in his eyes. “And now I’m fucking trapped.”
“You’re not trapped. You’re allowed to not be with someone who doesn’t heal your soul. What you’re not allowed to do is be a fucking coward and leave your daughter without a father just because you and Nora made a dumb decision. That’s not that baby’s fault, mate.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not mine either!” he snaps, voice cracking as he takes a step toward me. “How the hell was I supposed to know she lied?”
I blink, unsure if I actually heard him right or if the smells are just getting to me now.
“Lied? What are you talking about? Is she—wait. Is the kid not yours?”
He gives me a blank look, clearly unimpressed. “Of course she’s mine, mate.”
“Then what—”
“When we met, she told me she was on birth control. That was like the first question that flew out of me because obviously it was dark when the power went out, and we were drunk and I was in no position to be searching around for a bloody rubber—”
Or having sex, clearly.
“So I asked her if we needed the extra protection.” He pauses, shoulders slumping as he lets his back hit the wall. “She said no, Jax.”
My eyebrows pinch together. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean she lied. Birth control isn’t always the most effective.”
He shakes his head, a bitter laugh spilling out of him. “No, mate. She lied. When we went for the scan, the doctor afterward asked if precautions were taken, and she just shrugged and said no.”
My eyes widen. I don’t think I’ve ever been more confused. “Well, have you talked to her about it?”
He pushes off the wall, eyes now glued to the cement beneath our feet. He starts to move past me, then stops, turning just enough to glance over his shoulder.
“So when I tell you that you’re lucky, Jax—” he presses his lips together, like he’s biting back something else he wants to say “—It’s not to be a dick. I’m being literal.”
I stand there, watching him disappear back into the pub. I don’t chase him, I don’t push him to say more, I just let him go.
Because if I know Gareth even half as well as I should after twenty-one years of friendship, then this is exactly what he needs—space.