“What about Jett?” I ask, because… hell. He matters to her. They got into this together.
Rhys nods. “His lawyer’s already on it. Jett should be eligible for bail tonight.”
“But not her?” I hate how bitter that sounds. I’m not mad at Jett. I’m mad at the whole fucked system. “Didn’t Jett already have… issues too?”
Rhys exhales. “He did. But he was provoked, and Walter, his attorney, started working his case the minute they were booked. That’s the difference.”
I nod, jaw tight. It’s not fair. None of this is. But especially not for her.
Rhys must see it on my face, because his voice softens. “I get it. She’s vulnerable. She doesn’t belong here.”
And that tells me everything. That she’s gotten to him. Crawled under his skin the same way she’s burrowed into mine. And I did tell her I was cool with this sharing thing, but hearing it, feeling it, is different when she’s locked up and I’m clenching my fists to keep from crying or throwing something.
“Is there nothing we can do right now?” I ask, knowing the answer, asking anyway.
“Jett offered his lawyer to help her. Walter will take over her case as soon as Jett’s released,” he says.
I’m already pulling out my wallet. “Can I bail him out?”
Rhys blinks. “You would?”
“She cares about him. That’s enough. Same goes for you, by the way. I’d post bond in a heartbeat.”
He huffs a laugh. “Not that I’m planning on getting arrested anytime soon, but… good to know I have options.”
His smile is real. And kind. And yeah, okay, I get why she’s into him. It’s not just the jawline. He’s calm in a crisis. Steady. Empathetic in a way that’s hard to fake.
“You don’t even have my number,” I joke, trying not to melt down in public.
“I’ll fix that,” he says. “But if you really want to cover Jett’s bail, it’s under Ryker. Let me grab the paperwork.”
The woman at the desk doesn’t give me any grief about posting Jett’s bail.
I guess it’s expected when men like him get into fights. Shrug-worthy. Normal.
But Delilah? Nah. She doesn’t fit their little boxes. Too pretty. Too strange. Too much to belong in a cell.
It’s a while before they bring Jett out, which means I’m stuck in this sterile lobby with Rhys, trapped in awkward silence and fluorescent lighting.
What the hell are we supposed to talk about? Can’t exactly ask how therapy went today. He can’t tell me what Delilah said. I can’t tell him that I know he’s pretending this ends with her as his patient and not his future emotional support orgasm. And I won’t say it, but I think we both know how this finishes.
Not with boundaries. Not with professionalism.
She doesn’t let people stay untouched.
Finally, Jett strides into the lobby looking only slightly less pissed off than he did when we had our little hallway showdown. Still got that bruised-pride stiffness to him, like the whole world owes him an apology.
His eyes lock on me and Rhys, and his jaw tightens, bracing for a punch. “You didn’t have to do that,” he says.
“No. I didn’t,” I answer.
Rhys tenses beside me. He can feel the weight in the air too.
Maybe this is where it pops off. If Jett swings on me, he’s not getting bail again tonight.
But Jett just exhales, tight and sharp, looking disappointed I’m not being more of a dick about it. “Where is she?”
“They’re not setting her bail tonight,” Rhys says gently. As if it might land softer if it comes from him.
