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And that just won't fucking do.
I hand my beer to whoever is standing next to me and march across the room. I wind around people and hop over a fallen chair. If anyone tries to talk to me, I miss it completely, my focus entirely on him.
I'm ten feet away, close enough to see he's got her completely pinned against the wall.
Five feet away, and I can see his hips are moving. Is he—is hefuckingher?
Two feet away, and I see him lean down like he's going to kiss her.
And then I'm there, clamping a hand into his shoulder and wrenching him off of her in one violent movement.
He spins around, brows high with surprise and eyes narrowed. I wasn't expecting him to turn around swinging, but I guess I should have.
I dodge to the right, and his knuckles crash against the side of my jaw. Enough to send my teeth into the side of my cheek. Blood fills my mouth, and I turn to the side and spit it out on instinct.
I take it as an invitation and throw my own punch. I wasn't intending on getting into a fight tonight, but my brother and I have been scrapping since we were old enough to watch those wrestling shows with Dad and Uncle Walker.
He used to be bigger than me, but that was years ago. Now, we're evenly matched.
Blood spurts from his nose like a goddamn geyser. And tomorrow I might hate myself for it, but I feel a sick sort of satisfaction at the sight.
Mr. Calm-and-Collected looks unruly for once. I tongue my cheek and grin at him, hoping I look half as crazed as I feel.
It's then I noticed we've garnered the attention of nearly everyone in here. I feel their collective stares on us, and I roll my shoulders back under their weight.
The music still blares from the speakers, but the conversation has quieted down to low murmurs.
Fights aren't unheard of, but they're not commonplace either.
“Nova?” Her voice is hesitant, quiet even. Fuck knows how I heard it over the blood whooshing in my ears.
I glance up to find Evangeline's horrified eyes on me. Her terror takes the wind out of my sails faster than anything else could have.
The fight doesn't drain out of me, I'm not a fucking robot. But it does cool enough for me to back-burner that shit and switch my focus to her.
I make it to her in three steps, my hands finding the sides of her face. “Fuck, I'm sorry, sweetheart. Are you alright?”
Her eyes are bloodshot. Wide and glassy. Like one sweep of those long lashes will send tears cascading down her cheeks. Just the thought of making her cry pierces my already bruised heart.
“Me? Areyouokay?” Her hands land on my shoulders, fluttering around my face. “Oh my god, Nova. You just punched yourbrother!”
Her voice pitches high by the end, and like her voice alone conjured him, I feel him behind me.
“You and me, outside, right the fuck now. Before I forget that you're my brother,” he snaps.
Her hands fist my tee. “What's happening? I don't understand! Why are you guys fighting!”
“It's nothing,” I reassure her. The lie tastes like ash on the back of my tongue.
“No, it's not nothing,” she counters. Some of the fire sparks back to life in her gaze, and that eases some of the tension in my shoulders.
“Outside, Nova,” Silas barks from somewhere behind us.
I see Jagger hover just to my left. He may be a Reaper, but he was my fucking friend first. And loyalty means everything in a club, even a reformed one like ours.
“You good, man?” Jagger asks, keeping his voice low.
I don't take my gaze from Evangeline, my words for both of them. “Sometimes brothers fight. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen. Nothing to worry about.”
