Page 91 of Golden Rule

“Two, corner pocket,” Dane calls out, and I lean on my pool stick, focused as he takes his shot.

His lame ass does a literal fist pump when he knocks that shit in, then he makes his way around to the other side of the tableto line up another one. Sterling sips his beer, then his gaze slips toward me while I wait to take my turn.

“Listen, I did some thinking on the way home today. You have my word I won’t give you anymore shit about your shoulder. It’s not my business, you already know my thoughts on it, so I’m officially retiring my nagging card,” he jokes, which draws a smile from me. “And that goes for Dane too,” he adds.

The second he says his name, Dane knocks the cueball in, and I scan the table for a shot.

“All good.” I keep my response short, because honestly? I’m feeling guilty as a visual of the pills swirling down the toilet pops into my head.

Sterling places his hand on my shoulder, shaking it a bit before he walks over to the bar to swap out his empty bottle for another. “Clean slate,” he says. “So, what’s new? How’s the center coming along? Blue ready to pull her hair out yet?”

I smile but don’t speak until I sink my shot. “Nah, you know she loves a good project. Shit, gettingmyass in line was probably her greatest challenge.”

Ricky laughs the loudest from the stool he’s holding down at the bar, and I shoot his disloyal ass a look.

“Sorry, Rich Boy, but that’s the realest shit you’ve ever said. I mean, damn, you almost ruined things before you even had her.”

As much as I’d like to disagree with him, he’s right, which is why I’m laughing too now.

“All right. I get it. I was an asshole.”

Dane arches a brow. “Was?”

He laughs when I flip him off, then I make my shot.

“Any trouble out of this Seth guy yet?” Sterling asks. “Pandora seems to want everyone tothinkhe’s a problem, but if anyone knows she blows shit out of proportion, it’s us.”

I take a breath before answering. “He’s keeping his nose clean so far, but you know me, always on high alert.”

“As you should be,” Ricky nods, approving one hundred percent of my tendency to be overprotective, because he’s the exact same way. “Don’t trust a motherfucker further than you can throw his ass.”

He fist bumps me, having taken the words right out of my mouth.

I don’t mean to, but I fall silent after that, feeling guilt creep in again as I’m reminded of my visit to Tripp’s earlier today. On top of everything else, now I’m carrying this, too.

“What’s on your mind, Rich Boy. Talk to me,” Ricky says, and I’m not sure how he always does that, reads our damn minds like some kind of prophet.

Again, I’m quiet. Not because I don’t trust the guys, but just… because I’m fucking ashamed.

“We can do this all night,” he adds, and when I glance toward him, he smiles a little.

I hate myself for having stooped so low, but… fuck it.

“Had a rough day today, and… it led me to do something I’m not proud of,” I admit.

Ricky nods. “Been there. I think weallhave.”

His words have me remembering some of those moments for each of the three in the room with me tonight.

“Yeah, but… this feels exceptionally bad. Like, if my ass had gotten caught, I could’ve lost everything.”

And I mean that wholeheartedly, which is why I can’t believe I even considered it.

“This is a no judgment zone, remember?” Ricky adds, then sips from his glass.

“I know, I just… I… paid an old friend a visit today and… copped a few pills to help with my shoulder.”

I’m breathing harder when I finish, knowing they’re all probably thinking what an idiot I am—risking my career, my marriage.

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