Losing Track (Living Heartwood #2)(42)

She shakes her head and mock laughs once. “Don’t start this shit, dude. Honestly. Not after what I saw you do out there. Just…don’t.” Her eyes level me with a knowing glare.

I push back in the chair, press my freshly bandaged palms to my thighs. Meet her gaze, and decide it’s time to let someone—partially—in. It might as well be Mel. “I lost someone. And it was my fault.”

Mel’s features fall, and she swipes at a loose strand of hair near her eye. “You know it was your fault for sure, or you just feel guilty?”

“I know. Because had I been there, he never would have died. I was selfish, thinking only about getting my fix and…” I don’t really know how to explain the rest, so I leave it at that. “I was pretty damn selfish. But this—” I motion around the room, indicating the brawl “—is how I atone. It makes me feel, even if the only thing to feel is pain. It’s the only thing I deserve. I’m alive, I’m here, and he’s not.”

Before Melody is able to process my words, I lean forward and snag her tank strap. She pulls back at first, caught off guard. But I don’t let her get away. I pull the strap and her toward me, then push it slowly aside, revealing her tattoo. I skim my thumb over her flesh, along the word pain.

“From pain comes strength,” I say. “You understand a little of what I’m saying.”

She licks her lips, her eyes flick to my face. “I’m not saying that I don’t, Boone. But how is getting beaten to a bloody pulp atoning for anything?”

Still caressing her skin, I shrug a shoulder. “I don’t know. But it feels right. And it keeps me sober. Isn’t that enough?”

We lock eyes. Stay in this close position for what feels like an eternity. I’m scared to move, scared that once I release her she’ll walk out that door and I’ll never find her again. Then I’ll never find this feeling again, the one that makes it almost okay to want to exist.

Her lips part, but before she’s able to voice anything, a beep breaks the silence of the room. She blinks and looks down, then snakes her phone from her pocket. I’m still holding on, to her and this moment, as she types something on the screen.

“I need to go,” she says, looking up.

“Right.” My hand pulls back. I run it through my sweaty hair. “You came here with people, not alone, right?”

She nods.

“Good. Not that I think you can’t take care of yourself, but there’s some pretty shady people here.”

She cranes an eyebrow. “Really?”

A smile twitches at my lips. “I deserve that.”

Before she’s on her feet, I snag the phone from her hand. I quickly enter my number, and in a couple seconds, my own cell rings from my pack. “Now I have your number.”

I look up to gauge how much I just pissed her off, and the door swings open. A guy in a black leather vest and tats covering his arms enters. He sees Mel, then he sees me. His attention turns back to Mel.

“Are you okay—what are you doing here?” he says as he stalks up to Mel. He asks both so quickly, and so irately, I see the stunned look on Mel’s face as she wavers about answering either.

His hands latch on to her shoulders, and a blaze rockets through my chest. I’m on my feet before she can respond. “She’s fine. Was helping me get bandaged up.”

The guy’s gaze snaps to me, his dark eyes looking me over before they settle on my face. “I wasn’t asking you.”

I pull my shoulders back. “Well, I’m answering.”

“Hey,” Mel interrupts. “Both of you put your pricks away. Chill.” She stands between us, hands up, and turns toward the guy. “I know him. He’s a friend…sort of.”

“You know him? From where?”

I really don’t like how this guy is talking to her. Like a possessive older brother. Or a possessive shithead boyfriend. And I don’t like that she feels she has to answer for herself. Who is this douchebag? The hand not holding Mel’s phone balls into a fist.

“What does it matter, Jesse? Damn.” Mel reaches over to me and takes her phone, and I watch Jesse’s gaze closely follow her movements. His mouth hardens into a thin line.

“Take care of yourself,” she says to me. “Try not to lose too much blood next time.” She winks, and that one action deflates the rage brimming inside me.

Jesse pulls her aside. “You can’t just run off like that. Not here. I was freaking out.”

She shrugs out of his hold. “You’re the one who brought me here. You’re idea. What, it’s not safe?”

His mouth falls open. “Don’t do this shit.” His gaze slides to me, and he adds, “Not now, all right?”

Something unsaid and tense passes between them, then, “Fine,” Mel says, and heads to the door. She gives me a quick look, crooks a smile, and walks out of the room.

The Jesse guy follows, but sends me a look of his own. One that says stay the f*ck away from her. I give him a head nod, cocking my chin out. He doesn’t like that at all. He closes the door to a crack and then takes a couple steps toward me.

“Mel is MC property,” he says. When my face registers my confusion, and revulsion at hearing her be anyone’s property, he states, “She’s off limits.”