“What the fuck, Jax?” She comes back furiously.
“Will you let me explain?”
“Explain what?” she snaps. “Explain how letting your ex pierce your dick is fine? Go ahead. I’m dying to hear this.”
“She didn’t do it,” I say. “Quentin did.”
“Who the fuck is Quentin?”
“Her business partner. A man.”
“So you still went to her shop.”
“Yes.”
“You had to go there.”
“Honestly? I didn’t think it was a problem if it wasn’t her doing it.”
“Of course you didn’t.” She laughs. “You know why she hangs around, Jax.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She thinks she still has a chance. Why is that?”
“I don’t know, Sisk.” My voice tightens. “I’ve told her—many times—we were never really together. She knows it’s always been you.”
“It’s obviously not clear enough to her.”
“Look, if it wasn’t for Murtaugh and his fucking science projects, we probably wouldn’t even be in the same room.”
“But you are.”
“They’re trying to help.”
“Are they?” she shoots back. “Great. It’s all one big happy family, isn’t it?”
“You don’t need to be jealous of her.”
Her face changes.
“Oh, I don’t?” she says quietly. “Thanks for telling me what I should feel.”
I exhale hard, a frustrated puff of air. “That’s not what I meant.”
“You know what pisses me off?” she continues, stepping closer, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You get to be jealous of the entire city.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” she challenges, pushing right into my space. “You think I forgot what you did to Lucas?”
The streetlight above us flickers and Sisk looks up.
I take a breath, but it’s a mistake. Out here, every scent is amplified. Her skin, the stale beer on my own breath, smoke drifting from blocks away, and blood somewhere in the distance.
I somehow sense the tar in the pit rising like a heavy tide.
“Are you okay?” she asks, stepping closer now, her hand reaching for my arm.
