He’d sent me a cat meme he thought I’d get a laugh from. I think that says everything about him. So, why was it so hard to text him? It wasn’t even face to face. I couldn’t even manage a simple ‘come see me’ or ‘I’m okay’? Was I really that pathetic and weak-willed?
“Nicole?” Blinking hard, I jumped at my sister’s call, and her gaze narrowed on me as a small smile tilted my lips. “Are you sure you’re okay after what happened? You ran over a person. Don’t you wanna know if he’s okay? I’m not gonna lie. I half expect you to call hospitals lookin’ for him so you can send him flowers or somethin’.”
“Maybe.” Flexing my fingers around my phone, the ring on my finger refracted the light streaming from the windows. I held out my hand, staring at the beautiful set and modest rock. This ring represented so many things, but mostly I had to start taking care of myself, not expecting other people to do it for me. “If that guy didn’t wanna get run over, he shouldn’t have jumped in front of my car. That’s all there is to it. When you do something dangerous, you need to accept it’s your own fault if you get hurt.”
“What the fuck are you on about, Nicole? Are you seriously saying you have no feelings on it?” The bite in Jackie’s voice slashed my cheek, and I tensed as she pointed an accusatory finger at me. “You don’t feel any guilt? No worry? You can sleep fine after that and go on like the possibility that the guy’s dead isn’t there?”
“Yeah. That’s what I’m sayin’. I’m not guilty, I’m not worried, I’ll sleep fine . . . and if that guy’s dead, it’s not on me.” Her flabbergasted expression drew when she stared, wide eyed and open mouthed, at me as my murmur flooded the space between us. “You know, Jackie, after Tom proposed to me at your wedding, and Bruiser helped me down the mountain, I realized something. Everyone warned him. You, me, and Dad told Tom not to do something stupid at the reception, and he did it anyway. Tom did something he knew was a bad thing. That’s not my responsibility. It’s not on me that he was stuck up on the mountain for two days. I’m not the bad guy in my own life.”
The silence rang in my ears even as my sister blinked in disbelief, and I sat back in my chair to sigh softly. Turning my mug in my palms on the table, I caught Jackie’s eye as they started to narrow into tight slits. “I’m just done putting myself on the back burner because I’m afraid of disappointing or upsetting someone else, like with Tom. You said it yourself, Jackie. Not being unhappy isn’t an excuse to stay in a situation.”
“Maybe this Bruiser guy isn’t so terrible. What happened while I was trapezing across France, Nicole?” Surprise twitched my cheek at how easily Jackie folded, but I ducked my head in a nod of acknowledgment. What had happened?
“I think . . . it’s just that I found someone that puts in as much effort as I do. And even if it’s a little rocky right now for Bruiser, he still makes time for me. I don’t feel like second best.” Jackie arched a perfectly manicured brow at my answer, and I lifted my mug to hide my smile. Memories raced through my mind’s eye, but really, I needed to work up the courage to text him. Even if I was trying not to be, I was still a coward, after all.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Bruiser
Tapping the top of the bay door, the loud, metallic rattle rippled down my arm and back from the immense tension building in me. Spyder pulled himself out from under Nicole’s car, and he radiated misery. It didn’t stop him from fixing her car, of course, but the irony pulled a chuckle from me.
“Thanks for doing this for her.” He waved me off before turning to the car to tug his beard, and I stuffed my hands into my jean pockets. “How’s it lookin’?”
“Shockingly, the chassis is fine. Good thing she ran over the dirt bike and not a butch bike. I gotta go search for a mirror, and you’ll be good to drive it up to Provo tomorrow. Hellraisers left my mom roadkill on her front door this morning.” Surprise clogged my throat, and Spyder scowled through his thick scruff. Grinding my teeth, I mulled over that revelation before he grunted lowly. “Did your girl call you yet?”
“No. She works Saturdays, so I’ll see her when I drop off her car.” I shook my head and waved a hand in dismissal, and Spyder’s eyes narrowed on me shrewdly. “Let’s talk about what you wanted to talk about, Spyder. Why’d you call me here?”
“Cole liked what he saw in Vegas the other day. Rook’s better than you made him out to be.” I rubbed the back of my neck as the urge to protest clogged my throat; Cole wasn’t exactly someone to judge. He did MMA, which was wildly different than street fighting, and he should know to acknowledge that. “You think Cole’s wrong?”
“I think Cole tends to look at the potential of something or someone, not what’s right in front of his face. He’s too optimistic for his own damn good. I think, right now, Rook’s pain threshold is negligible, he’s not good on his feet, and that’s a stretch that he can even keep on them. He hasn’t learned to prioritize enemies or leave well enough alone. The
