Chapter Sixty-Six
Xavier
The second I see her, my chest aches. She’s on the dance floor. In another man’s arms. Not close. Not intimate. Nothing about it crosses a line. That doesn’t matter.
She looks… comfortable. Like the last several weeks didn’t happen. Like the yard, the gate, the cameras going dark didn’t follow her in here.
My jaw locks. Too many people. Too much noise. No one paying attention. She looks up. Finds me. And stills.
The guy says something. She doesn’t answer. Just watches me. I start toward the dance floor. A hand clamps down on my shoulder.
“Easy,” Ben mutters. He hooks an arm around my neck, steering me sideways like we’re heading for a drink. “Not here.”
“I’m not–”
“Yeah, you are.”
I glance back. She’s still there. Watching. The guy leans in, says something else. She nods. The song ends.
Ruby can dance with whoever she wants. It’s none of my business.
I grab my beer and take a long drink. Try to focus on the game. The conversation next to me. Anything except the redhead that’s currently letting some guy spin her around the dance floor.
The song ends. Another starts. People shift. Couples trade partners. She doesn’t. I tell myself that whatever irritation is crawling under my skin will disappear if I give it a minute.
It doesn't.
A few minutes later, Ruby slips off the dance floor.
Alone. She heads toward the hallway. I stare at my bottle.
Count to ten. Then twenty. Long enough that nobody can accuse me of following her.
Long enough to convince myself I'm checking on her, not chasing after her.
Neither explanation feels particularly convincing.
I set my beer down. The hallway near the restrooms is quieter. Dimmer. The noise from the bar dulls to a low hum. She’s there. Alone. She looks up when I step into the space. Doesn’t look surprised. Just… tired.
“What’re you doing?” I ask. Too sharp.
She crosses her arms. “Going to the bathroom.”
“Don’t do that.”
Her brows lift. “Do what?”
A muscle in my jaw twitches. “You know what I mean.”
“Dancing?” She flips her hair over her shoulder in a blur of bouncing curls. “In a bar?”
“With him.” I tip my head toward the dance floor. I know the guy. He’s not what I’d consider a friend, but he’s not a bad guy. Ruby could do worse. My hands ball into fists. Her stalker could be anyone—even this Derek guy.
“With someone who asked.”
The tips of my fingernails cut into my palms. “You think this is a good idea right now?”
Her head tilts. “Right now?”
“With everything going on,” I say. Her obtuseness is about to make me snap. “Someone’s been in your yard, your house–”
“We’re casual, remember? That’s what we’ve both said. I’m not yours to worry about,” she says.
“This is about your safety.”
“We’re friends.” Her gaze hits the wall behind me. “Nothing more.” Her brow furrows as she tilts her head. “Maybe we aren’t even that.” The lines go deeper. “Were we ever friends?”
The hallway feels smaller. Hotter.
“That’s bullshit. Of course, we’re friends. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stand here and–” I cut myself off, jaw tightening.
She watches me, something flickering there she doesn’t let settle. “You don’t get to be angry. You don’t get to rewrite the rules because you don’t like how they feel.”
I don’t answer. Because she’s right. I don’t have a say in what she does, even with the stalker. If she wants me to go, there’s no argument I can give. And then, she’d be easier prey.
She shifts her weight, stepping toward the opening. I move without thinking. Just enough that she has to pass me.
For a moment, it looks like she’s going to brush my shoulder. Like she always does. Like it’s nothing. At the last second, she angles away. Not far. Just enough. No contact. It lands harder than if she’d shoved me.
“I’m going back to my friends.” Her voice is flat. Controlled. No underlying emotion. “You should too.”
She doesn’t wait. Doesn’t look back. She disappears into the music, the noise, the laughter of people enjoying themselves. I stay where I am. Hands still curled. Jaw tight.
The echo of that almost-contact sits wrong under my skin. I push off the wall after a second, slower than I should, forcing myself back toward the bar.
Back into the noise. Back into something I can pretend is normal. It doesn’t feel that way anymore.