Page 103 of 1 Last Shot

The cop lets out a chuckle. "You want to ask when you get to make another one, don't you?"

Yeah, I do. But I'm too proud to ask that out loud.

Or to admit that I've never had to askanyof these questions—despite being in jail for drunken bar brawls three times in my life already—because I've never had anyone to call.

"Take a seat, Rocky, you'll get another call in a few hours. From what I overheard, your first one didn't go so well."

Fuck.Fuck.Who did I call?

It had to have been Isabella. I don't even think I know anyone else's number. Or if I did, and I dialed someone else, I doubt anyone would come to get me.

Would Isabella even come to get me?After last night's shitshow, I wouldn't blame her if she didn't. I wouldn't blame her if she never answered my calls again.

I force that thought from my mind—that thought makes me want to vomit more than the alcohol.

Instead, I take a seat and try to blanket my mind with static. I force every thought—every angry, panicked, shameful thought—from my brain. Because all I can do now is wait. And getting lost in that spiral of thoughts isn't going to make this situation any better.

I don't know how long I sit like that. I don't think it's very long, because the light in the jail cell doesn't change much. But at some point, my eyes snap open, the sounds of a heated conversation reaching my ears.

And unless I'm still drunk, I think I recognize the voice belonging to… Hailey?

Sure enough, a righteously indignant Hailey comes barreling around the corner. Jax on her heels, of course.

"It's absolutely ridiculous that you wouldn't let us pick him up any earlier," she's saying, glaring at the same guard I spoke to earlier. "What's the difference between letting him out at 7 a.m. or 8 a.m.? Clearly, he's already sobered up. I would think you would want to beemptyingthese cells."

"Miss, like I already told you," the guard says, annoyance lacing his words. "We have rules. We can't let them go until they've sobered up." He glares at Hailey. "And if you think he was sober when he called you, then you're just as stupid as he was drunk."

"Watch it," Jax bites out, his jaw hard and his eyes spitting straight venom at the guard.

The guard looks like he wants to toss Jax in the cell just for threatening a cop. But his wants are clearly bigger than his abilities, because it takes one thorough look at Jax to realize he doesn't have it in him.

"Just get the asshole out of here," the guard finally grumbles, reaching for his keys so he can shove them into the lock and open the door.

I don't ask any questions. I just take the exit I've been granted and walk through the door.

Jax and Hailey wait behind me while I fill out my discharge paperwork and accept the citation I've been issued for…disorderly conduct, according to the paper in front of me.

Sounds about right. God knows my bar brawls in Baltimore used to be messy.

It isn't until I'm given back my wallet and phone that I finally chance a look at Jax and Hailey. Jax looks like he's a combination of angry and annoyed, which makes sense in this situation. Hailey also has the annoyed look, but it seems to be directed at the guard. Otherwise, she just looks… worried. Maybe nervous.

And when we walk out of the building and stop on the sidewalk, that look multiplies tenfold on her face.

"Are you okay?" she asks in a quiet voice.

"Yeah," I say, my voice like gravel. "Thanks for, uh, bailing me out. I'm sorry if I woke you two up." My brow furrows in irritation. At myself. "I don't even remember calling you, to be honest. And I'm not sure why I thought you'd answer. Or actually come down here."

“You called the gym,” Jax explains. “Calls get forwarded to my cell afterhours, so we woke up to your call.” My words finally seem to register, because he frowns. "Of course, we'd come down," he says. "We're teammates. I'm not going to let you rot in jail."

My head is pounding. From my impending hangover, but also from the muddled thoughts swimming in my brain, because Jax's words make no sense. He hates me. Hehates me. That's been more than apparent at the gym.

He must see my confusion, because he sighs and his shoulders droop.

"Kane, just because we don't see eye to eye with our training doesn't mean I want you to get hit by a bus. I keep my distance because I'm not a good training partner for you, but we're stillteammates. I still have your back. Inside and outside of the gym."

The question slips out of me before I can swallow it back.

"Why would you do that?" I croak. "I've made it obvious I'm only there for myself. Why do you give a shit what happens to me?"

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