Then he took it.
Marley caught it straight away. One look between us and she was already leaning toward Victoria to whisper something that made Victoria smile down at her notebook like she’d been waiting for exactly this.
“He accepted the coffee,” Marley said.
“It’s over for him,” Victoria cooed.
“He doesn’t know it yet.”
“He will.”
I heard all of this because the bar is well-positioned to overhear, which is another benefit of the wall at your back.
Queenie arrived an hour ago on Nitro’s arm. She moves with an energy that suggests age is more of an opinion, and she’s been disagreeing with it for years. Her eyes are bright, and absolutely nothing in this room escapes them. She found me early, held my cheek in her hand for a moment, the way she does, and told me I was looking better than last week. I told her the bar had been low last week. She laughed, patted my face, and went to sit beside Victoria, and within four minutes, they were deep in a conversation that appeared to involve neither of them needing to finish a full sentence.
Millie is beside me, not pressed close, not announcing anything, just beside me. Her hip is near mine at the bar, one arm resting on the surface, her coffee held loosely in both hands. She has her hair down today, the dark waves settling around her shoulders, and she’s wearing something soft and warm-colored that does something to the light around her. She smells like vanilla and the warm sweetness of bread flour, a smell I have become accustomed to without ever realizing it.
She’s watching the room too, taking everything in with that steady attention she’s always had. The kind that comes from growing up around Jonas McClane, where noticing things wasn’t optional and paying attention to people mattered.
“Ghost is going to be furious with himself,” she says, watching Sage lean over to say something in Ghost’s ear.
“He’ll manage it,” I say.
“He’ll manage it by pretending nothing is happening for approximately six more months.”
“Probably closer to eight.” She makes a small sound that isn’t quite a laugh but contains one, and the warmth of it moves through the side of my chest.
Nitro’s been off all afternoon. I noticed it maybe forty minutes ago. Not because he stopped talking or moving around, but because there’s been tension sitting under everything he does, the kind that says he’s carrying something around in his head and hasn’t decided what to do with it yet. He’s been on the sofa near Queenie for most of the past hour, and he keeps a hand near hers, not quite holding it, close enough that she could take it.
Queenie leans in so only he hears her. I can’t make out the words, but I see the way her fingers wrap around his forearm, the way she holds him there for one extra beat like she’s steadying something enormous before letting it go.
Nitro looks at her.
Something settles behind his eyes.
A decision.
He nods once.
Queenie sits back, satisfied in the way only women who know exactly what they have just done ever look, and turns back to Marley like she hasn’t just shifted the axis of the night.
Nitro reaches into his pocket.
At first, I think he’s checking his phone.
Then the music starts, just loud enough to thread through the conversations.
Just a small-town girl…
Marley freezes.
Her head lifts slowly, like something inside her recognized the first note before her brain caught up.
Across the room, Bear mutters a low, stunned laugh.
Koa stops mid-sentence.
Even Deek shuts up, which honestly might be the first genuine miracle this clubhouse has ever witnessed.
