Page 5 of Broken Pact

“Yeah, but you’re the luckiest asshole I know.” He slides his gaze to the rag that now lies crumpled on the workbench, like it equals luck instead of good ol’ fashioned practice.

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that I’ve come to realize means he’s about to say something out of pocket too. Sometimes it’s a wager that ends with one of us buying a round for the entire bar and other times it means cliff-jumping into the lake.

“And then you’re gonna take it to the prez.”

And there it is. A laugh stutters out of me.

“I don’t know why you’re so afraid of him.”

Hawke takes a step back, his weight shifting to his back foot. “I’m not afraid. I just think he’s a scary motherfucker.”

Amusement bubbles up inside my chest and I shake my head. “Nah, he’s just a man.”

“With all the respect in the world, bro, you’re wrong. He’s a man with a wife and two kids. One of which is a fuckin’ baby—and his woman was at the center of some fucked-up shit last year. He’s not a man. He’s a fucking . . . bear or tiger or some shit,” he says, waving his hand around to emphasize something. “Whatever. The point is he’s like a beast now. He may not walk around grumbling at everyone anymore, but that’s only because he’s barely here. He spends most of his time stalking the perimeter of his house like some kind of lion on the prowl.”

“So you haven’t thought about this before or anything,” I muse, turning around to look under the hood of the truck once more.

“Hell yeah I have. That’s how I came up with this brilliant, foolproof plan of mine. Everyone in Rosewood fuckin’ loves you, bro. Ergo, there’s no way the prez will say no,” he says it so simply, like it’s common knowledge.

I pause with my hand on the truck’s engine, my head cocking to the side. “Did you just say ergo?”

“Yes, asshole. Stop trying to distract me because you know I’m right. After Nova, you’re the most charming Reaper we have. Plus, you’re objectively good-looking. People are more likely to agree with conventionally attractive people because they want to please them.”

Nova is the prez’s younger brother and the mouthpiece for the Reapers. We used to get up to all kinds of shit in the clubhouse or in town.

But now our lives look a little different.

Him, holed up with his family most nights, and me, spending more and more nights at my lake house. With my cat.

If I let myself think about it too hard, I get fucking depressed. I’m not an asshole. I’m ecstatic for Nova. He deserves his woman and happiness and all that sappy stuff.

But it’s a little bit depressing knowing I’ll never have that kind of connection with someone. It’s just not in my DNA.

I shake my head, my hair falling over my forehead as I fiddle with a few more things. “You gotta stop watching all those true crime psychological docuseries, man.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

My phone vibrates on the small metal table next to the truck, saving me from having to answer him. I wipe my right hand along my thigh before I pick up my phone.

Naomi: Hey! I was thinking we do dinner and get to know one another? Your place?

I swipe off the push notification and pocket my phone, leaving the text unanswered for now.

What does one even say to a half-sibling they discovered six months ago?

3

CORALINE

“I’ll be your number one with a bullet.”

A soft laugh slips free as I sing the lyrics and type in today’s song title caption on my social media post under the photo of my newest dessert. My internet besties are going to love the throwback to the song and the well-placed pun.

I save the draft and toggle to my profile to check on yesterday’s post. Mrs. Shepley’s dark chocolate tart looks exceptionally delicious and moody, and my online besties seem to agree. Or maybe they just love yesterday’s caption that I silently dedicated to Grant. It’s not like he’ll ever see it as he stated multiple times that he thinks social media is beneath him. Whatever the hell that even means.

My back straightens as a deep, warm satisfaction radiates from my core. I don’t usually think of myself as petty, but I was definitely feeling some type of way about my ex and his inability to take a hint when I chose that song title.

But today is a new day and a new dessert. And I’m actively not thinking about the countdown that’s slowly ticking away despite my almost desperate need to think about anything else.

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