Page 73 of Heartbreaker

To create a place he would have fuckingloved.

Well, mission accomplished.

I sit in the back, at the table with the small brass sign engraved withReserved for Colt.It’s always kept empty unless one of us is here.

Tonight it’s full of Gamebreakers.

Banks because the Vipers don’t have a game and Aspen’s working—and right now, where Aspen is, is where Banks is.

Or I guess it’s been that way from the moment he first fell for her.

Dash because he’s in town and not working for once.

Atlas because he’s the most hands on of all of us with the club. His business acumen and control freak ways make him the perfect candidate for being in charge of the day-to-day operations.

And me.

I’m rarely at the club unless the guys—or Briar—make me, and yeah, that problem gives even more credence to what I was telling Jade before we flew out this morning.

I’m no good for her.

I’m no good foranyone.

I can’t even bring myself to spend time with my friends, with myfamily. It’s only the creeping silence in my house—no Jade in the kitchen, humming as she cooks; no Jade sputtering, snow melting on her eyelashes; no Jade curled up beside me in bed, her lush little body pressed to mine; no Jade?—

NoJade.

She texted me to let me know she arrived safely in Nashville—a text I stayed pathetically glued to my cell, waiting for it to come in.

And I’d replied I was glad she safely made it.

And…

That was it.

She’s going back to her life. I’m back in mine.

Except, I promised that we’ll figure something out.

I just…

Have no fucking clue what that means, no fucking clue what I can give her, no fucking clue what I’mdoing.

And I couldn’t sit at home in my silent, empty house one more night.

So, when Banks texted the group chat and said he was coming to The Sapphire Room tonight and the guys chimed in that they were available and would join him—with the exception of Briar (who’s one of us guys, for all intents and purposes), and who’s having a self-care Saturday (whatever the fuck that means) with Frankie—I decided to join the guys.

Better sitting around brooding here than at home.

Dash jabs his elbow into my side, and I glare at him. “What?”

He jerks his chin toward Banks—who’s drinking in the sight of Aspen behind the bar like she’s the only drop of water in the Sahara Desert. “Whipped.”

“Aren’t we a little old to be giving each other shit about women?” I grumble.

Atlas picks up his Gamebreaker and reclines back against the black leather of the booth. “Nah. We’re never too old to give each other shit about anything—but most especially women.”

I roll my eyes.

---