Chapter 40
“Nobody say a word about the loss around Roman,” Jett demands, giving the group of us a threatening look.
Kellan salutes beside me. “Got it, Daddy.”
“You’re an asshole, but thank you. Tonight isn’t about the team.”
“We know. I’d rather not spend the next several hours yanking Brielle’s heel out of my ass for saying the wrong thing,” Wes chimes in.
I almost laugh at the comment, but that would involve removing the mask I’ve slid into place for this party. I’d rather keep my emotions hidden than let anyone see how upset I am. If that means keeping quiet and letting myself fade into the background, then that’s what I’ll do.
Tomorrow, I’ll go back to licking my wounds.
“Asher said he’d be here. That’ll help distract the happy couple when one of you inevitably does something stupid,” Jett says.
The door to Pretty Little Pour swings open. I taste my heartbeat when the frail thing jumps into my throat. Finn enters and shakes his wet hair out behind Wes before making a beeline for his girlfriend. The useless organ falls back into place with a splat.
“Is he staying in Vancouver now?” Wes asks, twisting behind the pink velour chair he’s leaning against to check out the late arrival.
Jett takes a long sip of his iced tea. “Should be.”
“Oh, thank fuck.” Kellan jostles me when he lifts his arms above his head. “I love this team, but we’re shit defensively right now. J can only do so much at short.”
I nurse my first beer and stare at the closed door, willing it to open again. But just as quickly as that hope appears, it shrivels up and dies. Four days is nothing compared to the nine I was on an away trip, yet it feels a million times worse.
Maybe because she isn’t sitting at my place waiting for me this time, idiot.
She’s gone, and the longer we don’t speak, the more I’m starting to believe that she isn’t coming back to me.
“What did I say, Kell?” Jett huffs, shaking his head. “No team talk tonight.”
Kellan chuckles, brushing the scolding off. With a tip of his chin, he greets the man who sidles up to the table. “Hey, Coach. Congrats, hey?”
Roman Shore runs his intense eyes over each of us, his body language still a bit off.
His black hair is greying a bit at the sides again, prematurely aging him.
For forty, he could pass for thirty-five.
His body’s still bulky, and he has these ear piercings that clearly work well for him.
To be able to snag a woman like Brielle is a feat in and of itself, and he did so despite his grumpy demeanour.
He’s far from the man he was six months ago, though.
More open and considerate, with a new interest in hanging around us outside of the clubhouse.
I’ve gotten to know him on a personal level recently, and I like what I’ve learned.
The guy is good shit, and he’s worthy of Brielle.
If he weren’t, Wes would have kicked his ass to the curb already, regardless of his manager position. We all would have helped him do it.
“Thank you. I’m a lucky man to be loved by her.”
Wes’ eyes sear into the side of his face, approval glimmering there. “Yeah, you are.”
“You guys gonna hug now?” Kellan asks.
Roman ignores him and gives Wes his full attention.
I almost look away at the seriousness of their silent conversation.
Without a doubt, they’ll have some sort of more permanent one before the wedding, but this moment feels heavy.
It isn’t a warning, exactly; the black eye Roman sported a month ago was the aftermath of the one Wes gave.
This is approval.
“I’ve never seen my sister happier.”
Wes leans against the table and watches Roman’s eyes finally shift to where Brielle’s standing at the bar.
Her attire made me laugh for the first time in days.
The short pink skirt and the matching stiletto heels are completely her style.
It’s the custom Shore jersey that pulled that foreign emotion from me.
I remember how she always wore mine but stopped when Roman got jealous and all but demanded she wear literally anything else.
Making him jealous was one of my favourite pastimes.
Aubrey pulls her in for a tight hug and smacks a kiss to the top of her blonde hair. The glittering pink lights above the bar reflect off the giant rock on Brielle’s finger, making it the centre of attention. I look away, nearly wincing at the throb of longing in my chest.
It’s pathetic. I’m nearing thirty, yet here I am, yearning for a woman who has never wanted me. At least not the way I need her to.
“I plan on keeping it that way,” Roman declares.
“I know. That’s the only reason I let you marry her.”
“Let him?” Finn snorts when he joins us at the table.
The rain on his Havoc jacket makes a small puddle on the floor when he shrugs out of it and hangs it on the back of an empty chair.
I busy myself with my beer, the taste of it turning my already upset stomach.
Everything about being here is wrong. I want to be at home, locked away from all of these knowing eyes.
“Hey, if I’d said no, he wouldn’t have done it,” Wesley argues.
Finn folds himself into the chair claimed by his jacket and looks in the same direction as Roman. His eyes find Aubrey instead, lingering there without a care in the world that doesn’t involve her.
Without saying a word, I quietly slip away from the table.
I shove a rough hand through my hair and release a tight breath.
Beside them, I linger at the next set of empty chairs and pretend to check my phone.
There’s too much going on here. I want to scream just to see if it releases some of the tightness from my chest.
Call her.
It would be so easy. So simple. She already tried to do the same to me earlier, and I forced myself to ignore her.
If I heard her voice, I’d have cracked like an egg and broken myself beyond repair.
For a relationship that was never labelled as such, losing her hurts just as badly. I’ve never felt pain like this before.
Kellan’s voice hits me, so low and soft I nearly don’t hear him. “What do you need?”
I try to keep my expression blank and fail, too aware of the way my best friend has always been able to see right through me. Turning to look at him, I flare my nostrils and swallow.
“Just don’t say I told you so.”
“That’s the last thing I’m thinking, Beck. Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it done.”
My throat tries to strangle the words I say. “I couldn’t get the girl.”
“Bullshit. Yes, you did.”
“Then why did I lose her?”
His pause is heavy, loaded with thoughts I know he won’t tell me now. I almost wish he would, if only so I could get angry about something else.
Yanking a chair out from the empty table, I ignore the curious eyes on my back. Kellan doesn’t wait for an invite to join me. He plops his ass down beside me and gives my shoulder a squeeze.
“You love her, yeah?” he asks.
“That obvious?”
His snort is rough. “Yeah. Been obvious for a long while now. I didn’t understand it at first. You know what I thought about all this. She’s always had you by the balls, yet you didn’t seem to give a shit how hard she yanked on them as long as she didn’t let go.”
I can’t argue with him. He’s right.
“Do you think she loves you, too? Or was this just a passing thing to her?”
“I don’t know.” I dig my fingers into the glass beer bottle.
“She let me get close, but there was still so much she wouldn’t tell me.
The night we got back from the road trip, she looked so .
. . happy to see me. I’ve never seen her look so vulnerable before.
It was like she’d decided that she wasn’t going to fight this anymore. ”
“So what happened?”
“Maybe that’s what scared her off. Being happy with me,” I mutter, thinking back to those few nights.
The memory of her body beneath mine and her hands tracing shapes and letters on my skin in the dark has taken over my sleepless nights.
I hear her soft voice telling me how handsome I am and feel the ghost of her face against my neck when she’d nuzzle into me, finding the same sense of peace in my arms that I felt holding her in them.
Her soft, warm eyes looking up at me every time I’d bring her a cup of tea, and we’d sit on the couch together and debrief our days.
I rub my thigh, struggling to break free of the flashbacks in my mind.
I’d do anything to stand across from her at Blank Page and watch her roll her eyes while making me a drink she knew I’d hate. That was where it all started, and tonight, I’d give anything to go back there so that I wouldn’t know what it feels like to lose her yet.
“What’s the shit they say about letting someone go, and if they come back, they’re yours?” Kellan asks bluntly.
“That’s the worst advice. She’s not a bird.”
“I don’t know shit about keeping a woman, bro. Everyone I ever wanted has chosen someone else over me. So, if you want better advice, you’ll need to ask Finn or Rome. Even Jett. The guy has a kid, after all.”
I release my beer and fold my arm over his to smack his back. Some of the tightness inside me releases.
“The only thing I need you to do is tell me not to run to her when she gets here. Because if I do, I’ll—”
“You’re not going anywhere. I might know shit about relationships, but I do know that you’ve already been the one to chase her. If she wants you the way she’d be stupid not to, then it’s her turn.”
I give him a jerky nod at the same time a breeze that doesn’t feel this cold nips at my skin. The scent of exhaust and the Italian restaurant fills the bar. There’s no stopping the way I search for her. My gaze is strained as I focus on the entrance and listen for her.
“A little help, please!”
Aubrey and Brielle go to her while I remain on my ass. A heavy sense of wrongness weighs me down before Kellan’s hand on my shoulder does.
Red hair fills my vision. My hands tingle, warm with the need to take the thick strands between my fingers and bury my face in it.
I shift on my seat, feasting on the sight of her after days without.
Light-wash jeans hug her soft thighs, and the long-sleeve shirt she’s pushed up her forearms is pulled tight across her chest. My teeth find the inside of my cheek again. I stabilize my heavy breathing.
The other women take the giant tray from her and deposit it elsewhere. Quinn tugs on the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her belt. She hasn’t looked around for me yet. Kellan squeezes me once, having realized the same thing.
“You should have called and told me you were here! We’d have gone out to help you,” Brielle rambles.
“You must be Quinn,” Roman says from his fiancée’s side.
She puts her hand in his, shaking it. My brain knows they’re only greeting each other, but the rest of me revolts at the sight, wishing it were me she was touching. And when she smiles at him?
I almost shake Kellan off.
“That’s me. And I’m assuming you’re the groom?”
“Soon-to-be,” Brielle says, touching Roman in a way that’s obviously her staking a claim.
It seems like a natural impulse. One that I can relate to. She knows Quinn isn’t interested in him. I only wish everyone here knew with confidence that she wants me instead.
“That’s me.”
“I’m sorry for being late. There was a rush at the café as I was on my way out, and I’d already sent my barista home.”
“You’re right on time, actually. Do you want to stay for the rest of the party?” Brielle asks eagerly.
Panicked blue-grey eyes finally scour the bar. The second they fall on me, I lose the ability to breathe. I meet her gaze and let her see everything I’m feeling. The absolute need and deep-rooted ache. How badly I want to call her forward and pull her into my lap, keeping her there forever.
I hate that I have to blink, because once I do, she looks away again. The loss of her presence is instant, reality pushing back in.
“I appreciate the invite, but I’ve had a long day. I’d love some pictures of everything after, though.”
“I’ll let you know as soon as we have them,” Aubrey tells her.
“Great. I’ll head out, then. Congratulations, by the way,” Quinn says, already backing up to the door.
Stay.
She doesn’t.