Chapter 64 #2
“Vision,” Matt answers from the side, kicking one of the crates into place. “Tables here. Tap wall there. Stage in the back.”
“No stage,” Jax says. “Give it a few months,” he adds, his gaze sweeping over the room. “You won’t recognize it.”
Lucas lowers himself carefully onto one of the crates like he’s worried about splinters. I sit without thinking.
Jax disappears behind a door and comes back with three dark bottles of Ashbrew. He pops the caps off with the edge of his hand and hands them out.
“First round’s always on me,” Jax says.
“I told you, that’s not how business works,” Matt adds jokingly.
We all take a sip and Lucas immediately pulls the bottle away and coughs. “What the hell is this?”
“Beer,” we all say at the same time.
He stares at the label. “This is not beer.”
“It’s the best,” Matt says casually.
“It tastes like burnt coffee grounds.”
“It’s an acquired taste,” Jax replies, his eyes on me.
“So it’s everything from Tar City, I guess,” I say, trying to break the tension.
“Not you, babe,” Lucas says with a wink that feels entirely out of place.
Matt coughs into his bottle to hide a laugh.
I take another sip.
“Want a tip? Don’t sell this,” Lucas says, taking another sip and immediately regretting it, his face twisting.
Jax’s mouth curves slightly. “So,” he says, almost lazily, “when’s the big day?”
“Well…” Lucas clears his throat, puffing his chest out slightly. “I’m kind of still waiting on an answer, actually.”
I nearly choke on my drink and end up chugging the rest instead.
“Easy there, babe,” Lucas tells me from my side.
“Oh, she can take it,” Jax says smoothly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Can’t you, rabbit?”
I want to kill him. I really, truly want to kill him.
“Rabbit?” Lucas asks, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Old joke,” Jax answers, leaning back against the wall. His sleeves are pushed up, tattoos crawling over both forearms now. “So, ring but no wedding date?”
“If it were up to me, we’d do it sooner rather than later,” Lucas says, trying the beer again.
Jax pulls out a cigarette, lights it, and takes a drag before coming closer to hold it out to me.
“You don’t smoke,” Lucas says, surprised.
“I do in Tar City,” I say, taking it from Jax.
I take a drag and stand, pacing toward the far corner where something is dripping steadily from the ceiling onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip.
“The drip,” I say.
“Oh, we’ll fix that,” Matt says with a wave.
“No,” I shake my head. “I mean the name. You should call this place The Drip.”
“The Drip,” Matt repeats thoughtfully.
“Nah,” Jax says. “Pitfall’s better.”
I grab another bottle and hand it to Lucas. “Can you open for me?”
He tries. “Got an opener?” he asks the guys.
“Here,” Jax says.
He takes the bottle and, with a casual flex of his hand, pops the cap off without trouble.
Lucas blinks. “Is that a trick or something?”
“Or something,” Jax replies, looking straight at me as he hands me the beer.
“So. How you liking your new home, Lucas?” Jax asks, looking away first.
Lucas doesn’t hesitate. “This will never be our home.”
“Well,” I say, “maybe ‘never’ is a strong word.”
Lucas looks at me, confused. “You don’t actually mean that.”
“I…” I hesitate, the Ashbrew making my tongue loose. “Millie’s here. My parents are here. Things aren’t exactly… stable.”
“That’s exactly why we can’t stay,” Lucas replies gently, like he’s talking to a child.
Matt goes very still. Jax says nothing.
I swallow. “What if they need me?” I snap.
“They don’t need you,” Lucas says, his voice darkening with a finality that feels like a door slamming shut. “There’s nothing you can do for them. They’re too far gone.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “What does that mean?”
“I mean… drugs aren’t something you just fix overnight, Sisk.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I’m saying you don’t throw away everything you built because your sister can’t get her life together.”
Silence. The only sound is the steady drip from the leak in the ceiling.
“Ouch,” Jax mutters from the corner, his voice laced with dark satisfaction.
I ignore him, turning my full attention to Lucas. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“It’s what it sounds like.”
“My family isn’t something I built, Lucas. They’re part of me. I love them. If they need me, I’ll come back.”
“Your future is with me,” he says. “It’s dancing. It’s anywhere but here.”
Across the room, Jax slowly pushes off the bar. “Maybe let her be part of that decision too.”
I whip toward him, fury flaring hot. “Stay out of this.”
He just lights another cigarette, completely unfazed. Matt is already drifting toward the door, sensing the explosion.
Lucas continues, his voice rising as he talks over Jax like he’s not even there. “We worked too hard for this, Sisk. You didn’t claw your way out just to come back and drown in it.”
Something in me flinches. “You don’t know what it’s like here.”
“I don’t need to,” Lucas says. “I saw enough.”
Jax laughs softly, a dry, mocking sound.
Lucas turns on him. “You got something to add?”
Jax shrugs, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. “Just thinking maybe caring about your future in-laws’ safety might be a decent place to start.”
Lucas doesn’t hesitate. “I’m sorry, but I don’t care about them,” he says bluntly. “I care about you, Sisk. I don’t care about this city. Or the people stuck in it.” His eyes sweep the room with a dismissive glance. “You’re better than this,” Lucas says.
Jax’s eyes sharpen, the red glow returning for a split second. “I think you mean you’re better.”
“Jax,” I snap, tears already burning my eyes. “Stay the fuck out of it.”
Lucas looks between us, his expression hardening. “What is this?” he asks. “Some kind of jealousy problem?”
Jax lifts a hand slightly, but his voice is pure steel. “Not jealous. I’m not good enough for her. Never been. Never will be.” He flicks ash onto the concrete floor. “But from what I’ve heard tonight, Lucas… you’re not either.”
“Excuse me?” Lucas says, standing to his full height, his posture rigid with offense. Lucas gestures around the unfinished bar. “She deserves stability. Not… whatever this is.”
Jax’s fist tightens, but he doesn’t move, his gaze locked on Lucas.
“That’s enough,” I say quietly, my voice trembling.
Lucas looks at me, his face softening slightly. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what?” I ask, the tears finally spilling over. “From my own family?”
“I’m trying to build something real with you.”
“And this isn’t real?” My voice cracks despite myself. “This is where I’m from.”
“It’s where you escaped from.”
“I didn’t escape,” I say slowly, the words heavy with a truth I’m only just realizing. “I left. I left everyone.”
“For better things.”
“For different things.”
Lucas exhales, a sound of pure frustration. “Sisk… don’t romanticize this place. It eats people. You said so yourself.”
I glance at Jax briefly.
Lucas steps closer, lowering his voice. “You’re not actually considering staying, are you?”
I look at him. At the ring. At the bar. At Jax.
“I don’t know.”
That’s the truth, and it’s enough.
Lucas’s face changes, the polite facade crumbling. “That’s not the answer we came here for.” He looks down at my hand, then back up at me, his eyes pleading. “Choose, Sisk,” he says quietly, his voice cracking. “You have to choose. Yourself. Us. Or this city.”
I move without thinking, my fingers numb as I slide the ring off slowly.
Lucas watches with disbelief as I place it on top of his folded coat. He looks at Jax, then back at me. “Sisk… I love you,” he says, softer now, a desperate, final plea.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the words tearing out of my throat. “I can’t do this.”
Jax doesn’t say anything, he points to the door with his chin, a gesture that’s both a dismissal and a command.
Lucas pushes a crate out of the way, already moving toward Jax, but Matt steps back into the room immediately, like he’d been waiting for it. “No way, man,” Matt says firmly, moving to stand between them. “Let’s go.”
Lucas hesitates, his eyes burning into me, then he turns, grabs his coat, the ring, and turns away. “I’ll send for my bag.” At the door, he pauses. “You know where to find me,” he says quietly. “When you figure out what you just threw away.”
He walks toward the exit and I feel my entire world crumble as the door shuts.
“Sisk.” Jax steps toward me.
The words “get the fuck away from me” die in my throat as my knees buckle. Before I can make a sound, his hands are on me—one arm wrapping around my back, the other settling at my waist, grounding me. I don’t even realize I’m crying until my face is pressed against his chest.
He doesn’t say anything at all, and he doesn’t have to. His shirt smells like smoke, sweat, beer—and, most dangerously, like home.