I take a sip of coffee so I don’t say either.
He watches my mouth on the lid, and the air changes again. Darker. Warmer. Stupid.
“Keep talking,” I say.
His gaze lifts. “Cherry lost the baby. I stayed with her through it. Then I did what I thought was mercy. I paid bills. Checked in. Made sure nobody treated her like disposable clubhouse pussy.”
“That part sounds decent.”
“It wasn’t enough.”
“No.”
“It also was not right. I gave her enough of me to make myself feel less cruel. Not enough to give her truth or options.” His voice drops. “I failed her before I ever failed you.”
I look away.
That one lands in a place I didn’t expect.
Because it is true.
Because if he had been honest with Cherry, she would not have been standing in the garage with sorry on her lips and another woman’s rage in her hands. If he had closed that door, Carmen’s people would have found a different weapon. Maybe. Maybe not. But this one was sharp because he left it out.
“You fucked her after that night at Eclipse,” I say. “That night you told me you didn’t want me with another man.”
“Yes.”
“Because I left with a promoter.”
“Because I was jealous and had no right to be.”
“And because Cherry was there when you got back to the club.”
“Yes.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Lady.”
“Answer.”
His jaw flexes. “I was drunk enough to be stupid, not drunk enough to blame the whiskey. She wanted me. I wanted to stop feeling jealous. So, yeah, some ugly part of me enjoyed being wanted.”
My stomach turns anyway.
“Congratulations on being honest.”
He flinches. “I deserve that.”
“You deserve worse.”
“I know.”
“Stop agreeing. It’s annoying.”
“Want me to argue?”
“No.”
