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I roll over and pick my phone up off the nightstand. I scroll to my texts. My thumb hovers over the screen. I want to tell Dex I’m sorry.
Even though I still think I did the right thing, the way I did it was shitty.
I miss him.
The agonizing pain of what I’ve done gathers in my chest, threatening to explode with grief.
I made a mistake.
Lincoln’s happy baby noises break up the stillness of the house. Even with the chaos and uncertainty still surrounding me, I smile into the darkness. Serena and Lincoln are here.
At least I’m not alone.
CHAPTER SIX
Dex
“Hey, look, Captain Cuddles is home!” Stash announces as I walk in the front door of the clubhouse.
“For fuck’s sake,” I grumble. The number of nicknames that get thrown around this place is ridiculous.
“It’s funny because you’re our road captain and you’re not very cuddly looking,” Sparky explains in his best Professor Pot Plant voice. Then he promptly falls off the couch and onto the floor in a fit of giggles.
Wrath and Murphy are also hanging out with the stoner twins—although Wrath’s eyeing the front door like he’s ready to bolt. Murphy’s glassy-eyed and red-faced, like maybe he’s been smoking up with Sparky and Stash or hit the Jameson too hard. Unusual but not out of the question for him.
“I see nothing’s changed here today.” I cross the room and lightly toe Sparky with my boot. “Can I apply for the job of stoner kicker?”
“Ow! Watch it, bro.” He giggles and rolls around on the floor. “That’s my ribs.”
“You babysitting this trio?” I ask Wrath, waving my finger around.
“Hey,” Murphy protests.
Wrath tilts his head toward Murphy. “We had grown-up business to discuss. Then these two chucklefucks joined in to give us a contact high.”
“You’re the least fun smoker ever.” Sparky points an accusatory finger toward the ceiling, so it’s not clear if he’s referring to Wrath or the voices in his head.
“What’s up with you?” Wrath lifts his chin my way.
“Yeah, your aura is kinda heavy, bro,” Sparky says. “Help yourself.” He vaguely gestures toward a brightly colored bong on the coffee table above him.
“I’m good, thanks.” I drop down on the couch next to Murphy and scrub my hands over my face. “Just a weird fucking day.”
Murphy pours a generous amount of whiskey into his glass, then offers me the bottle. “Isn’t every day at CB kinda weird?”
I wave my hand, declining the drink. “Valid point, brother.” I sit back against the couch. “You seen Swan today?”
Wrath frowns. “No. Why?”
“No reason. She stopped by CB earlier.”
Now Murphy and Wrath have all their attention focused on me.
“Don’t tell me she’s going back to CB full-time again,” Wrath groans. “I just got those poles she’s been bugging me about scheduled for installation at Furious.”
“No,” I answer quickly. “Still the same den mother duties a couple nights a week.” I pull out my phone and scroll until I find the picture of the rigging she showed me. “She wanted to talk about installing something like this above the stage for two new hires.”
Wrath barely glances at it. “So do it. You’ve got free rein at Crystal Ball to do whatever the fuck you want.”
“Or have Rock take a vote at church this weekend,” Sparky suggests.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Murphy says, snatching my phone out of my hands and sloshing whiskey on my jeans in one motion. “What do we have here?”
“What?” I crane my neck, trying to see what he’s so damn interested in.
“Look how cuuute.” Murphy squeals like a teenage girl who just scored tickets to a Shelby Morgan show. “Dex and Emily, smiling at Fletcher Park.” He pulls a delighted face. “Aww.”
“Leave it alone,” Wrath warns in a low voice.
“Jesus Christ, do you know too?” I ask.
“I know things.” Wrath shrugs. “It’s a curse.”
“Know what?” Murphy asks, whipping his head to stare at each of us.
“They blew up,” Sparky says.
“Shut up.” I kick him harder this time.
“Ow!” Sparky yelps and rolls away from striking distance.
I glare at Sparky. “Does everyone know my business?”
“Yes,” Wrath answers. “How are you still surprised by this?”
“Bruh, what are you doing?” Murphy slurs. “She clearly makes you happy.”
I slowly side-eye my VP. “Did you just call me ‘bruh?’”
“That’s right.” Wrath jabs a finger at me, then Murphy. “Contain that shit now, Dex. This motherfucker right here sent me a text the other day”— Wrath stops and forms air quotes with his index fingers— “that said kk,” he mocks in a high-pitched voice. He throws another glare at Murphy. “What the fuck is that?”
“I was acknowledging your message, Grandpa,” Murphy says slowly.
“How is that easier than just typing o-k?” Wrath raises his fists in the air. “They’re both two fucking letters.” His frustration’s loud enough to rattle the windowpanes.
My stomach quivers with laughter. I’ve missed hanging around these two bickering bastards. And fuck do I love Wrath right now for deflecting the attention away from me.
