Wasn’t sure heshould.
Aidan wasn’t the sharpest when it came to emotions, but if Nate stuttered, if his face looked as awful as he thought it might, then he wouldn’t be able to hide all thewhat-ifsthat haunted him.
Aidan just nodded. “Okay, then.”
Nate should’ve expected that wouldn’t be the end of it.
But a week went by, and then another, and Nate didn’t get complacent, exactly, but he was distracted by the Jordan problem and losing himself in the rhythm of the season. By late October, he thought Jordan might be warming to him, but maybe that was just because he was willing to go on a tour of Toronto’s strip clubs with him.
Tonight, they weren’t at the Wild Leopard or the Neon Light. They were at Vault, Jordan over by the bar, Nate keeping half an eye on him and half an eye on where Ramsey had just appeared.
Whenever the team came to Vault, he was always here, an undeniable presence Nate couldn’t avoid. Tonight, he’d expected that nothing would be different, and sure enough, there he was, sliding through the crowd, doling out his charming smiles like candy.
He met Nate’s eyes and Nate tried not to tense.
It was stupid, but he kept waiting for the inevitable moment when he saw Ramsey and his pulse didn’t race.
Today was not that day.
And even worse, Ramsey seemed heading in his direction. Taking an indirect route, but that didn’t matter, because every time Ramsey glanced over at him, it was obvious Nate was his ultimate destination.
Usually, Ramsey was not this obvious, and Nate buried the flash of concern that he wasn’t okay.
But then Ramsey was at his side, glancing up at him with those unearthly blue-ish silver eyes, sweater matching them almost perfectly, a glittering diamond-encrusted chain just peeking around his collar.
“Bishop,” he said, nodding at him.
Nate swallowed down the complicated soup of emotion that Ramsey always churned up in him. “Playing nice, huh?”
“I thought that’s what Ialwaysdo,” Ramsey retorted mildly. Not bothered, like he never was, by the edge of Nate’s voice.
“Yeah, wonder if you can actually fucking stand any of us,” Nate muttered. He hated how he didn’t know if it was all an act or not. If Ramsey’s semitransparent interest tonight was even genuine.
And if it wasn’t, why was he even bothering?
“Oh, but you’re my favorite, Nathaniel,” Ramsey teased, like Nate hadn’t said anything at all.
That was new, and Nate hated it.
“Hey, Nate, I was going to ask you something,” someone said, and Nate glanced over, surprised that not only Dawson was standing there, but Cam, too. He’d been so hyper-focused on Ramsey, he hadn’t even noticed them walk up. “You got a minute?”
Maybe Dawson had been deployed by Aidan—he knew they were longtime friends, and it wouldn’t surprise Nate at all if Dawson had been tasked to make sure everyone stayed politely neutral—but Daws was a good guy, and Nate wasn’t going to tell him to fuck off.
Especially if Dawson actually had a legitimate question to ask.
Still, he’d barely gotten his carefully doled-out portion of Ramsey and he didn’t want to leave him just yet—even as he felt a desperate need to get away, to get clear, forever even, rising in him.
Dawson led him towards one of the empty high-top tables, and Nate resisted the urge to glance back at Ramsey once, twice, and then finally gave in as the desire hit him the third time.
It didn’t help that Ramsey was looking right back.
Nate tried to shake his mind clear of Ramsey’s spell but it was hard. It was always hard. “So, what’s up?” Nate asked.
“Uh, you might’ve heard I had to fire my lawyer.”
Nate buried his incredulity that Dawson had dragged him over here to talk aboutlawyers.Focused instead on the fact that Dawson had needed one at all.
He’d gotten royally fucked over by his ex-wife, then his ex-father-in-law, and now it seemed by his lawyer.
