Chapter Sixty-Eight
Xavier
The music’s too loud. Not bad. Just constant. Enough to make it easy to stand here and nod at the right moments while saying nothing.
“…and then she still went back to him–”
“No way.” The blonde’s eyes widen as if she’s engrossed in the story. I have no idea if she’s listening any better than I am.
The brunette waves her hand with a flourish. “Swear.”
I give them a half-smile, take a drink I don’t taste, and scan the room again. Door. Bar. Dance floor. No Ruby. Good. Not good. I don’t know which.
“–you’re not even listening,” the brunette says, bumping my shoulder.
“I am.” The lie slips easily off my tongue. I’ve feigned interest in too many bar conversations to keep an accurate account.
Something shifts across the room. Even out of the corner of my eye, I know it’s Ruby. She’s cutting through the crowd, not dancing, not stopping, moving like she has a destination and doesn’t want to get pulled into anything along the way. Jacket already on. But no Bella or Emily in sight.
That’s wrong. She came with them. Where are they? I scan the room, finding them seated at the table they’ve occupied all night, but this time, they’re with Dominic and Jake. What in the fuck? My attention jerks back to Ruby, who’s moved closer to the entryway to the bathrooms.
Okay. Everything’s fine. She’s going to the bathroom. That must be what she’s doing because there’s no way she’s leaving on her own. She’s not that reckless. Right? My shoulders tense.
“Hey, you good?” one of them asks.
“Yeah.” I shift on my feet as she gets further away from me.
“Hold on,” the brunette says, fingers catching my wrist.
Ruby is almost to the hallway when someone steps into her path. Blonde. Lindsey. Of course. She tilts her head, giving Ruby that half-smile she uses when she’s about to get under someone’s skin.
Ruby stills for half a second. Says something back. Glances over her shoulder, eyes traveling over me and the two women at my side, then darts away just as quickly. She steps around Lindsey and keeps going.
“Xavier, pay attention. We’re just getting to the good part,” the blonde’s whiny voice grates on my already taut nerves.
I shake her off. “Not now.”
I’m already moving. The door opens. And then she’s gone. My stomach drops.
“She just–” I stop. She left. Alone. My pulse kicks hard, fast. No. I move.
“Hey–” The brunette’s fingers tighten. “You’re leaving already?”
I don’t slow down. “Let go.” She doesn’t. I wrench free, sharper than I mean to, but my head pounds in time with the beat of the band’s drummer. Frantic and intense. “Not now.”
I’m already moving again. Through the crowd. Past the tables. Eyes tracking every exit point without meaning to. Greg. There’s no sign of Greg. He’s been staring at Ruby since we returned from the hallway, and now, he’s gone.
I push through the front door. Cold hits hard. The parking lot’s half full. Engines idling, headlights cutting through the dark. No Ruby. No sign of her. No sign of Greg either.
The street, the sidewalk, the shadowed edges past the lot. Nothing. My back teeth grind together.
She has no business going home alone. That wasn’t the promise. She was supposed to always stick with someone. I head for my truck. Fast. Keys out before I’m fully there, door open, engine turning over hard. I don’t think. Just drive.
Her house comes into view too slow. Lights on. Her silhouette in the kitchen window. Relief hits hard enough to make my grip loosen on the steering wheel. She's here. Safe. For about half a second. Then the irritation rolls in.
I pull into the driveway and kill the engine. There’s no movement in the yard. My gaze sweeps. Fence line. Gate. Side yard. The shadows beyond the motion lights. Nothing. Doesn't mean a damn thing.
I shove out of the truck and take the porch steps two at a time. The door opens before I knock. Ruby stands there. Jacket still on. Purse over one shoulder. Like she just walked inside.
Her brows lift. “You followed me?”
I laugh once. No humor in it. “Not exactly.”
After I brush past her, I check the windows. The locks. The back door. Every instinct screaming until I convince myself she's alone. Only then do I turn around. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Her eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”
“You left.”
“I went home.”
“Alone.”
“Not exactly. I wasn’t alone. I had a driver bring me home.” She folds her arms. "One that I’d never met before."
“And that’s so much fucking better.” The pounding in my head feels like it’s going to explode my eyes out of their sockets. She took a fucking Uber and thinks that’s better than if she’d driven herself.
“This is all ridiculous.” She drops her purse onto the kitchen table with a clunk.
“You’re being ridiculous.” My voice comes out sharper than I intend. “You walked out and disappeared.”
“I told everyone I was leaving.”
“You didn’t tell me.” Silence. The tension stretches. I drag a hand through my hair. Trying to get a grip. Failing. “I watched you leave.”
That gets her attention.
“I saw you head for the door.” I shake my head. “Then I looked over, and Greg was gone.”
Her expression changes. “You think Greg followed me?”
“I don't know.” The admission comes out rough. Honest. “And that's the problem.”
“Somebody's leaving gifts on your car.” I take a step closer. “Somebody broke into your house.” Another. “We don't know who's been watching you. I watched you walk out.” My teeth grind together. “Then I realized Greg wasn't there either.”
She shudders and gnaws on her bottom lip. “He was watching me all night.”
I swallow hard as I force down the worry I felt when I stepped outside, and she was gone. “I couldn't find either one of you.”
Something softens in her expression. Not much. Enough. “I was fine.”
“I know that now.” The frustration drains. Leaving something worse behind.
A beat passes. Then another. “You were worried.”
I look away. Toward the refrigerator. Anywhere but her. “Yeah.” The word comes out quieter this time because there's no point pretending otherwise.
When I look back, she's studying me and really studying me. Her eyes are intense with an unidentified emotion. “You don't get to do that.”
My brows pull together. “Do what?”
“Worry about me like that and then pretend none of this means anything.”
She's right. I don’t get to do this. My jaw flexes. But that doesn’t seem to stop me from losing my mind when it comes to her.
“We agreed on casual.”
“We did.” That was my rule. My boundary.
“No expectations.” Her neighbor’s car door slams shut, causing her to jump.
“Yeah.” I shove my hands into my pockets to keep from grabbing her and telling her everything is going to be okay. I don’t have the right to do that.
“No relationship.”
I nod once. Slowly. That’s what I said. That’s what I meant because that’s all I’ve ever done.
Her eyes never leave mine. “Then why are you standing in my house looking like you want to punch somebody?”
The answer comes too fast. Too honest. “Because some guy had his hands on you.”
Silence. Complete. Immediate. The words hang there. Neither of us moving. Neither of us looking away.
“There it is.” Her voice is quiet.
I scrub a hand across my jaw. Already regretting it. Not because it isn't true. Because it is.
“You don't get both, Xavier.” I know. That's the problem. “You don't get casual and possessive.”
My laugh is short. Humorless. “Apparently.”
Her lips twitch despite herself. Then the smile disappears. “So what are you saying?”
I stare at her. At the stubborn set of her chin. The woman who's been driving me insane for months. The woman I can't seem to stay away from. “I don't want another guy touching you.”
The words settle heavily between us. Dangerous. Honest. Terrible.
Ruby exhales. “That's not casual.”
“No.” The admission costs me. “But it's what I've got.”
“What does that mean?” Her brow furrows as she tries to make sense of my convoluted statements, and I don’t have an answer.
I shake my head. “I don't know.” For once, that's the truth. “I know I don't do relationships.”
Her expression hardens. “And?”
“And I know I'm done pretending I don't care who you're dancing with.”
The room goes still. Neither of us moving. Neither of us backing down.
“What’re you asking for?”
“No one else.” Her breath catches. Small. Almost silent. But there. I don’t stop. “No promises.” I force the words out. “No future planning.” A bitter laugh. “No labels.”
“But no one else?” Ruby stares at me, causing my skin to tighten. What if she doesn’t agree? “For either of us?”
“Of course.” The agreement comes out quick. Certain.
She nods once. Slowly. Carefully. “Okay.”
Relief floods through me so fast that I refuse to consider what that means. All I know is that it’s another line neither of us can uncross.