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“I wouldn’t let another man borrow my Harley for a photo op. That toothy enough for ya, dick?”
A host of second thoughts crowd my mind as I stare at the screen. I’d bowed out way too easily when Miranda suggested Shelby and Dawson should attend this thing together.
“She looks like a fairytale princess.” I gesture toward the screen. “You think having a big, glowering biker next to her was gonna be helpful? Especially after that mess in Tennessee?”
“What? The tin foil cheater thing?” He waves it off. “Everyone knows Shelby’s got your balls in a mason jar.”
“I’m not talking about my balls, you clown.”
He points his beer bottle at the screen again. “You could’ve shrugged on that velvet sport coat, arranged your big ol’ balls into a thousand-dollar pair of jeans, shoved your stinky feet into some alligator boots that cost more than your first bike, and walked your woman down that red carpet instead of lettin’ Dawson do it.” He shudders. “Not like anyone expected you to wear a tux to this vapid shindig.”
“Somehow I don’t think any of those designers were in a rush to loan me alligator boots.”
“Don’t be dense. You know what I mean.”
“I can’t keep bringing all that negative attention to Shelby. It’s taking the focus off her music.”
“Duh. That’s why it would’ve made more sense for you to show your face there as a united front. Now everyone will be gossiping about her fuckin’ Dawson. Or did that not occur to you?”
“I thought about that.” Like, every second I’ve been away. “I needed to come up here. It made sense to do it now.”
His eyes widen and he reels back. “Whoa. I should’ve brought my hip boots to wade through this bullshit. Are you fucking kidding me? You had zero plans to stop here until I told you to.”
“Yeah, because I was supposed to be in Washington.”
He stops and sighs.
Aw fuck. I know that sigh. Recognize that expression slipping over his face too.
Shit’s about to get real and I’m not in the mood for it tonight. Not when he dragged me to a place I both love and hate. Where I gained and lost everything.
I’m missin’ Shelby so bad it aches down to my bones.
“There’s no way anyone’s gonna recognize you from back then if that’s what you’re worried about,” he finally says.
Okay, that’s in the neighborhood of the conversation I expected but not quite where I thought he’d start.
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Not exactly. “But yeah, since you went there, that’s not a story she needs surrounding her right now.” Or ever.
“Logan, she’s not Ashley.”
The sting of my ex’s betrayal isn’t as sharp as it used to be. Still hate hearing that fucking name.
“Fuck, even I can see how much Shelby loves you,” he continues. “It’s written all over that girl’s face every time she looks at your dopey ass.”
“Thanks, I’m touched.”
“I mean, personally, I don’t get it.” He wrinkles his nose and gives me a disdainful once-over. “I suppose she’s entranced by your big, dumb beard or something.”
“Yeah, that’s probably it.”
“You look nothing like that kid. No one’s gonna uncover all that shit and attach it to you today.” He pauses and dread fills my gut anticipating whatever he’s going to say next. “And even if someone did, Shelby wouldn’t care. She’s not stupid or shallow.”
“A story that ugly…” I shake my head. I almost think it would be better to let Shelby go than to put her through that circus.
Except, letting her go would be the same as cutting out my heart.
“It’s not your fault.” He takes a long, serious swallow of his beer. “Besides it doesn’t matter anymore. Those skeletons are buried deep.”
Maybe. But fuck knows no matter how much dirt you throw on top of them, skeletons always have a way of crawling out of the darkest holes.
Chapter Sixty
Shelby
My head throbs.
No, wait. That’s someone knocking on my door.
My eyes open. I stare at the shadowy ceiling, waiting to see if whoever it is knocks again.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I flick a glance at the clock. Who the heck would be waking me up this early?
Groaning, I sit up and blink a few times. I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol last night, yet I still feel like I got run over by a herd of angry hogs.
The knocks come a little quicker, followed by a muffled voice calling my name.
Rooster?
No, he’s supposed to be up north somewhere.
I hurry to the door, but check the peephole quickly to confirm it’s him.
“Rooster!” I twist and yank on the knob, so eager to see him, I can’t get the door to open.
“Shelby?”
“Give me a minute!” I stop my frantic tugging on the handle and realize the deadbolt’s engaged. I twist it and fling the door open. “What are you doing here?” I slam into his chest, loop my arms around his neck and jump up to kiss his cheek.
