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“Why?”
That shadow faded and a spark replaced it.
Oh yeah. She was lighting up for me already.
She wanted this fight. This was how Bren made sense of the world, where she was comfortable. This was her world and hell, her brother knew what he was doing when he sent those bounty hunters her way. Because they hadn’t just happened to be in Cain’s hospital the same time as Bren’s shift. The guy got his wound in another town over, one that had a better hospital. Channing sent them there. He probably knew Bren would suffocate slowly at the job she had.
Fucker. He was smart.
And why hadn’t I thought about it?
Honestly? Was I jealous because he thought ahead for her and I hadn’t?
Pathetic. Me.
But she hadn’t answered me. I scowled. “Answer me, Bren.”
“What?”
“Why do you want to get involved with this? What are we supposed to even do?”
She shifted on her seat, irritation tightening her features before she softened for whatever reason. That’s what Bren did. She got mad, and then she either hardened herself or she melted. When she was with me, it was the latter. Every time. And I found myself grinning because fuck, I loved her.
I knew no matter what that I would do whatever she wanted me to do. She might’ve been floundering a little, but she didn’t know how much she was my anchor. She was my North Star. I needed her or I’d be lost. I’d go off the rails.
Bren wanted justice in the world, and I knew that’s where we were going. Me, I just wanted her.
“It’s Tabatha.” She shrugged, looking away from me as she answered.
That reply didn’t sit right.
I frowned. “What do you mean, ‘it’s Tabatha?’”
“I don’t know. She’s, she’s just, she’s Tabatha.”
That made no sense to me. “She’s Jordan’s cheating ex.”
“She’s my friend.” She looked back to the table, starting to pick at some of the paint that had chipped off.
Understanding then dawned. “You care about Tabatha.”
“Don’t you?”
“Not really.”
She frowned, going back to the paint, but this time with more determination.
I reached over, catching her hand before she got a splinter, and pulled her around to my side. She resisted at first, then I tugged her all the way over. We were in a back corner. People could still see us, but I didn’t care. We weren’t normally a PDA couple, except for the occasion neither of us gave a damn what others thought. And this was one of those moments for me.
I needed to touch her, reassure her.
Keeping her hand in mine, I refrained from hauling her onto my lap, shifting to face her a bit better. “I’m not important in this scenario. You are. I want to hear what you want to do.” I nudged her on the leg. “Talk to me.”
She flashed me a look.
Yeah, yeah.
I know. I didn’t open up about my brother either. There was a reason for that. One, he was a dick. Two, he was a dick. Three, he was still a dick, but I knew I couldn’t walk away from him and I also couldn’t stand to be around him. See my dilemma. Once I had the words, I would share them. I just didn’t have them at this moment in time.
“Tabatha. You care about her.”
She flicked her eyes up, but went with it. “I don’t have friends. It’s you, Jordan, and Zellman. I inherited your sister from you, but Tabatha is different. I hated her at first, couldn’t stand her. We had some issues, but I don’t know. I like her. And I’m pissed that we didn’t push Jordan or her about what happened before this. Two months, Cross. Two months. She’s been doing what she’s been doing for two months, and we could’ve helped it. We could’ve stopped it, even.”
“Yeah, but we didn’t know. She didn’t come to us. He didn’t either. We were–”
“We weren’t in each other’s businesses because of me. It’s my fault. All of this is my fault because you guys have been tiptoeing around me like I’m made of glass. And I get it. I don’t know how I feel about my dad being out of prison, but it doesn’t matter—”
“It matters.”
“—he’s not even here. He’s back in Roussou, so I’m here. I’m doing my life here.”
She faltered, and fuck me…I knew what she was struggling with.
She was feeling guilty about being here for me, for the guys, for herself, when he was out and alone. He killed for her; that’s how Bren thought about it, and she was here. Not there. She wasn’t taking care of him. Instead, focusing on us. Her crew.
Fuck. Me.
I hadn’t known. I hadn’t seen it.
I saw it now, and no, no, no.
I wasn’t going to let that happen, but that was so not a conversation we could have now. She wasn’t ready for it, but dammit, when we did have it, I had to go hard. Super fucking hard. I was not going to lose her, lose us, because she felt guilty about her dad.
