Chapter one
Jax
SheaskedforLiamSteele’s number on the way out.
I paid the fucking check anyway.
Fourteen months on Bumble and that’s my damn highlight reel.
The AC in my car is getting its ass kicked by Florida in October. It’s trying. I’ll give it that. Not winning, though.
Could’ve been worse.
Could’ve been Brody’s problem.
I sit there a second with both hands on the wheel, staring through the windshield, letting the cold air hit my face.
Two people with nothing real between them, pretending otherwise over ninety-two dollars of food I don’t remember tasting.
She wasn’t an asshole. An asshole would’ve been easier. An asshole gives you something to push against.
This was careless. A woman across the table realizing I wasn’t the door she wanted opened, so I opened it anyway. Paid the check. Told her to get home safe.
Let her leave with her dignity because one of us should.
That app’s full of that. People looking for access. A story. A name close enough to touch so they can tell themselves they got somewhere.
That one’s on me. I knew it ten minutes in, right after she said she didn’t really watch too much hockey, then asked what Liam was like when the cameras weren’t on.
I put the car in drive.
Brick is out of Fancy Cat, and maybe one of us can have a decent night.
Nine PM. The store’s quiet the way I like it. Nobody performing. Nobody trying too hard. Just people in bad lighting getting what they came for and heading home.
I roll my right shoulder on the walk in. Automatic. My body dealing with something it’s been dealing with long enough it doesn’t ask me first. I roll it again.
Still there.
Fine.
I keep walking.
I head for the cat food aisle.
Brick has opinions. Specific. Non-negotiable. He communicates all of them through silence and disrespect. I tried another brand once. He sat next to the bowl and looked at me like I’d embarrassed him in public.
That cat picked me at the shelter by stepping out of the cage, sitting next to my leg, and acting like the paperwork was already done.
I respected that immediately.
I turn the corner into the aisle, spot the last can of Fancy Cat, and grab it before anybody else can.
One problem solved.
I drop it into the basket and start to turn.
Something clips the side hard enough to knock the whole thing sideways out of my hand.
