“You went to school at Dartmouth.”
When Hayden had mentioned that, it hadn’t really sunk in. Although it should have. But as time passed, the realization had burrowed deeper into my brain.
“I did.”
I rubbed my palms over my knees. “Do you know who else went there?”
His lips didn’t lift. They actually didn’t move at all. Through the thickness of his beard, I couldn’t tell if any lines appeared in his cheeks, but there were certainly some in hisforehead. That expression only lasted a few seconds before his tongue tapped the center of his top lip.
Troy knew exactly who I was referencing.
His attention left me when Jones and Callum joined the ladies on the trampoline. Instead of the men lying down, like the women still were, they started jumping around them. The movement caused Sophie and Eden to bounce in their horizontal position. I couldn’t make out what they were shouting; all I could hear was the laughter coming from the four of them.
I expected Troy to have a smile on his face, chuckling over the way his family was playing around with my sister and Sophie.
But that wasn’t what I saw, nor was it a sound that came out of him.
There was a tightness in Troy’s jaw. A rigidness in his body. A fixation that was unbreakable as he continued to stare in their direction. The skin on his hand as it gripped the edge of the couch—squeezing, releasing, clutching again—was extremely tight. His knuckles were painfully white, as if he was forcibly stopping himself from getting up to shield her from every jostle.
There was no question what I was looking at.
Troy wasn’t seething in jealousy. He was guarding, protecting what he wanted to be his.
“My man”—I clasped his shoulder—“I think there’s something you want to say.”
I assumed that would be enough to make him glance at me. I was surprised when it wasn’t.
“I think there’s something you want to hear me say.” The muscles in his cheek flexed.
“Same thing.”
He finally looked at me, lifting his glasses to the top of his head, and in his stare, I saw something I hadn’t anticipated.Something that slithered deeper than anything either of us had said to each other so far. Something that hit me as hard as his reply.
“Nah, man. Those two aren’t the same thing at all.”
I let out a breath, and when that wasn’t enough, I released another. “I’m going to grab myself a drink. Should I get you one as well?”
“Make mine a double.”
EPILOGUE
COLSON
THREE MONTHS LATER
Within a few seconds of sitting at the horseshoe-shaped bar inside of Lush, a woman took a seat beside me. I had no interest in who it was; she wasn’t the reason I was here. Therefore, I wasn’t sure why I even looked beside me. But as soon as I did, our eyes locked, and she smiled.
“Mr. Weston. It’s nice to see you here.”
“Pepper Michaels.” I nodded. “To what do I owe this honor?”
The famous owner-slash-madame didn’t make her way into the club often. I heard she kept a close eye on things, probably from the hundreds of cameras throughout the facility. But making an actual appearance in any of the rooms or bars, that was rare. Out of all the years I’d had a membership, I’d only seen her a handful of times.
She pushed her blonde hair off her shoulder. “According to my records, it’s been a while since you’ve graced us with your presence.”
“Checking in to make sure I’m satisfied?”
She smiled, her light-blue gaze bright and focused. “Usually, when members have long pauses in between their visits, it’s either a significant life event or they’re on the verge of canceling their membership.”
