That morning was like the second type of waking up. I was asleep with images of Avery’s body curled against mine. Then I was awake with only a cold bed next to me and rumpled sheets as a witness to a night spent with someone who could have been more.
If I was willing to let her in.
If I hadn’t taken her to a hotel room and fucked her as if she didn’t sparkle like she was special.
If I could believe the love that I have seen around me is something I deserve.
But she was gone, and I’ve spent the last five months convincing myself it was for the best. I’m still not certain I believe my own bullshit.
My back cracks as I straighten up in my chair and look down at the drawing I’ve been working on after an earlier consultation. The rose petals look like they’re weeping blood, and, as I look at it, a sense of beautiful devastation washes over me. The raven holding the rose is staring at me, mocking me, judging me.
“Yeah,” I mutter to my drawing, “I fucked up.”
Ellis is already looking at me when I look up, the white noise which always exists in the hum of the shop unable to quiet my mind and my memories of Avery. It’s ridiculous that I’m stillhung up on her. While you won’t catch me admitting it out loud, I am.
“You good, Bridger?” The way Ellis is looking at me, like I’m a bomb with a wire that needs to be snipped sooner rather than later, but only if it’s the right wire, is a look I’ve gotten used to over the last five months.
If I was silent and broody before I met Avery, the time since then has been filled with doubling down on my mood while adding claws. Big bear claws I swipe at people. They might think it’s for my own amusement, but it’s really in the hope that someone else will feel this with me.
“Yeah,” I grunt.
“He’s still hung up on the girl he met at Aces,” Travis pipes up from his station, all cocky swager and knowing in his tone.
I don’t say anything because you don’t lie to family. And while he’s poking at me to get me to react, like he’s been doing for the last five months, he’s also not wrong. I am hung up on Avery.
But I also know that I’m not good enough for her. She had clean skin without a single mark on it. And I looked. Everywhere.
There was an air of grace and civility around her. That along with the gravity in her voice told me that she’s educated. Far more than I ever was.
Her clothes were soft and well made; expensive. She wore them like she was made to do it. It wasn’t like she put on an ill-fitting costume and expected it to look natural.
Everything about her was effortless.
And the total opposite of me.
What do I have to offer a woman like that?
People would take one look at me next to her, especially in whatever circles she walks within, and curl their lip. The worst is how they wouldn’t pass judgment on me, at least not in a way I couldn’t handle, but they would sneer at her as I bring down her worth.
It’s a truth I cannot shake, and one which has me stuck in this state of wanting while knowing going our separate ways was for the best.
“Oooo-hhhh,” Knox holds it out and trills the word like he’s on the playground and not a grown ass man. “The blonde we saw him talking to before he just disappeared without saying goodbye?”
Monroe giggles but tries to hide it behind her hand. The glare I shoot at Knox and Travis should shut them up, but it doesn’t. Which…doesn’t surprise me at all.
“You never did tell us what happened between the two of you,” Travis teases, his eyebrows wiggling lasciviously.
“I already told you I’m not saying a damn thing about what happened,” I grunt. “It’s none of your business.”
“But we’re family,” Travis wails dramatically.
“Leave the man alone,” Wyatt grunts from the other side of the room.
When I look over at our boss, he has bags under his eyes, but there’s a quiet calm about him I’ve never seen before. Once Wyatt speaks up for me, the attention shifts toward him.
Monroe shoots him a look of concern even though he’s leaning down over his client’s leg where he’s half-way throughthe tattoo he’s working on. Her voice is soft, “Are you doing okay, bossman?”
Wyatt grunts and then looks up, his face softening in the same dreamy way I’ve seen since Ian came into his life, and then even more in the last few months since the baby was born. It’s also become clear that he’s exhausted pretty much all the time. I’m not surprised, considering they have a newborn, but even exhaustion hasn’t been able to take away from the joy radiating from him.
