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“Wow,” I let out. That wasn’t even on the list of things I was expecting.
“So, that’s my dirty secret. Feel better?”
“Better? No.” I shook my head. “Feel a need to get you a therapist so you can make out with a guy? Yeah. Now I want to help you find you a damn good kisser.”
“Find me a hot lumberjack of my own, and then we’ll talk,” he joked. I knew enough about Cade to know he was officially uncomfortable, so I let the conversation drop.
Instead, I put my attention on getting ready. When I went to take off my collar, I hesitated. I didn’t want to take it off. It was an absolutely stupid idea to wear it to the bar tonight. The Killian I knew wouldn’t have overreacted. But this Killian? He’d probably flip his shit.
But maybe I wanted him to flip his shit. Maybe I wanted him to feel as crappy about what he did to me as I felt. Maybe I wanted him to hurt like I did—even if it was only for a fraction of a second.
Chapter 24
Killian
Somehow, the road trip to Iron Falls, Washington had made everyone rowdier than they were in Colorado. As soon as people parked, they started fucking drinking, and the Ironwood pack had been doing so long before we even got there.
Iron Falls was significantly larger than Cedar Harbor. It had that same small-town feel but almost ten times the population. The town scaled from blue-collar to fancy fucks depending on where you were. But everyone visited the Iron Wolf Pub. The bar had been run by the Ironwood family for generations. It was the town’s place to be with loud music, greasy food, side rooms for sports and pool, and cheap as fuck beer. No one gave a fuck about income or social class while they were there. The town’s billionaires hung out with members of the Wild Irons Motorcycle Club and so on. It was a wild fucking experience every time.
And if you walked out the back door and through the gates, you’d find yourself in the Wild Irons clubhouse. It doubled as the Ironwood packhouse with its huge fucking house and direct entry into the woods. It wasn't a mandatory requirement of the Wild Irons to be a wolf, but everyone in the club knew about us. It made for a unique dynamic when it came to bullshit like the Fall Games. The crowd was fucking diverse at the bar with wolves and humans.
It set me on edge. Normally, I didn’t have an issue with the crowds at the bar. Hell, I helped out as a bouncer when fights broke out or people were just fucking stupid. Whenever I was in town, I stuck around to help the Ironwoods out. It was the least I could fucking do, all things considered.
I stood outside with my brothers, listening to some jacked-up story about last year’s camping trip. Lucas struggled to tell the story around laughter, Sam had an arm around Finn’s shoulder to keep upright as he wheezed, and I couldn’t fucking breathe. Fuck, I missed their goddamn shenanigans. That was a thing I was looking forward to when I moved back to Cedar Harbor.
“Where’s Raven?” I asked when I caught Declan checking his phone yet again.
“On her way,” he muttered. “She’s been on her way for a while. And I probably shouldn’t be worried because the woman drinks an obscene amount of coffee every time she drives, which means frequent stops.”
The minute we landed in Washington, Raven had hopped vehicles and left with Isla to go north. For what, I didn’t have a goddamn clue. It just left Declan checking his phone for the better half of the day.
“She’ll be fine.” I bumped his shoulder with my root beer. “Don’t worry.”
“Saying that to a chronic worrier doesn’t work,” Sam chimed in.
“Maybe they got pulled over,” Nolan suggested.
“God, I fucking hope not,” Declan muttered. “The last time we got pulled—”
“Don’t fucking finish that story,” I interrupted with a laugh. I had a strong fucking feeling of where that story was going, and I didn’t want to know. The two were not as discreet as they thought they were.
“What?” he demanded. “What the fuck did you think I was going to say?”
“Roadhead,” Sam, Finn, and Lucas all replied in unison.
“For the record,” Declan damn near shouted over our making fun of him. “I wasn’t going to say that!”
“No one believes you,” Nolan scoffed. “The notebook says otherwise.”
“What fucking notebook?” I asked. It was the second time Nolan had mentioned that notebook without explaining it. I was lost.
“I want that fucking notebook, Nolan,” Declan growled.
“Is that the dirty talk notebook?” Lucas cut in. Oh for fuck’s sake.
“No! Nolan!” I exclaimed and rounded on him. “You don’t write that shit down! He’s family.”
“My ladies go feral for it.” Nolan shrugged. “The shit he says makes me money.”
