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He looks like he hasn’t slept in the whole week he was away. The rings under his eyes are black like bruises, and his jaw is dark with stubble. He cradles a glass with amber liquid. Whiskey.
“Zane.” I’m not even sure he’s noticed me yet. “Has something happened? Anything I can do?”
His slanted eyes are shot with red when he turns to look at me, but a side of his mouth curls up. He leans toward me. “Hey, girl.” The whiskey sloshes in his glass and I make a grab for it.
“You’re wasted.”
He snorts and wrestles the glass back from me. “I deserve it. It’s been a fucking long week.”
“Is your sis okay?”
“Better now.” He gulps down more of his drink and hisses. “But she has three kids. One is still a baby. I had to take care of them. I like kids. I fucking do, but babies with colic are a killer.”
“I know.”
“You do?” He frowns at me.
I wince. Yeah, Jax had colic for months. It was terrible, p
oor baby. “Have you eaten? Shall I make dinner?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He waves a hand at me and leans back, resting his head on the backrest and closing his eyes. His voice slurs when he asks, “Is everything okay here?”
“Yes, no problems.” Images of Tyler and myself right here, on this sofa, hit me, and I get up hastily.
“And Jax?” His eyes open and some of the haze lifts from them. “You and he okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we’re fine. In fact, I’m thinking of bringing him over for you guys to meet him.”
His eyes narrow until they’re black slits. “Sure. That would be cool. Erin, are you sure…?”
He doesn’t finish. He lifts his glass instead and stares into it. I want to tell him everything, but I don’t want Tyler to know just yet.
“You’ll meet Jax and you’ll see,” I say instead. “I’m planning on driving home right now and bringing him back with me tonight. Don’t tell anyone yet, okay?”
Zane nods, his Mohawk drooping, looking as exhausted as the rest of him. “Then you do that, girl. Whatever makes you happy.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Tyler
Time has slowed since I left Erin this morning, looking cute and hot as hell in her tiny shorts and white blouse. She made breakfast for me again, and my appetite is returning the more time I spend with her. Plus, I slept fine with her in my arms.
No nightmares. No panic attacks. I feel damn good for the first time in years, and I can’t stop grinning for no reason, like a lunatic.
I send her a quick text as I walk toward Damage Control for my evening shift. ‘How’s it going?’
She doesn’t reply for a long while, making me worry for a thousand different reasons—is she regretting this? Is she pulling away? Did I do something?
This is driving me nuts.
But a text from her makes my phone ping just before I enter the tattoo shop. ‘I’m fine. What’s up?’
I stop and grin wolfishly. An old lady passing by does a double take and hurries away, looking at me over her shoulder.
I snort. ‘Work,’ I type. ‘See you later?’
Another long pause. I don’t like these long pauses. I want to have her in my arms, kiss her, breathe her in.
