“Fuck,” Jett says. “I told Walter to handle hers first.”
Rhys shakes his head. “Wouldn’t have mattered. She’s flagged. Repeat offenses. Judge won’t touch it till morning.”
“Like I’m not?” Jett rakes a hand through his hair. I can tell it’s killing him that she’s stuck back there and he’s out here breathing free air.
“You want a lift to your bike?” Rhys offers.
“I’m headed that way,” I add. “Gonna grab something to eat and drink. They feed you in there?”
They both turn toward me like I just suggested a double date to hell.
Jett tilts his head. “Little hungry. Where you going?”
I shrug. Like this is normal. And I’m not losing my goddamn mind inside. “We got options. That burger joint a few blocks over’s fantastic. Or there’s the steakhouse.”
“Fuck a steakhouse,” Jett says. “The burger place serve beer?”
“Yeah,” Rhys answers before I can.
“Who you riding with?” I ask.
Jett flicks his gaze between us, assessing who he hates least. “Yeah, okay. I’ll ride with you,” he says, nodding toward me. “Take me to my bike. I’ll follow.”
Rhys adjusts his sleeves. “I’ll be there. Maybe a few beers in.”
Don’t I know that feeling. Wanting to drown in hops and foam because the girl we’d all kill for is locked in a goddamn cage.
Jett follows me to my car.
Rhys heads off toward his own, probably already overthinking every word we said.
Once the doors close, it’s just me and Jett. The man she chased while still catching her breath from me. I was first. That matters. But it doesn’t undo the way she looks at him, the way she sparks when he’s near, like they’re two wires trying not to arc in a storm.
The silence is heavy. Not angry, just… uncomfortable. We’re both choking on something we don’t know how to say.
He’s stiff in the seat. Waiting for a fight or bracing for disappointment. I get the sense he wouldn’t love easily under any circumstances and even now, I’m not sure he knows that’s what he’s doing.
We have a common ground though as hard as that is.
“I hate leaving her there,” I say.
“Feels like shit,” he says. “Fucking Chad.”
“What kind of asshole gets bitch slapped and presses charges?” I say, turning onto the main road. “Well, and the car.”
Jett lets out the ghost of a laugh. Just one sharp exhale. “She’s a menace. He’s a fucking coward. He’s pressing charges ‘cause she’s mine. That’s it. That’s the reason. I’ll kill the son of a bitch.”
“Hey now,” I say, glancing over. “I don’t got the bail money for that.”
That earns me a longer look.
Jett turns in his seat, squinting at me like I just offered to knit him a sweater. “That was… really fucking weird.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say. “She likes you. This’ll mean something to her. Not just that we got you out. But that we’re talking. Not breaking each other’s faces in the parking lot.”
“The night’s not over yet,” he says.
I nod. “No, it’s not.”
