Where Lightning Strikes (Bleeding Stars #3)(67)

“How are you holding up, sugar?” Charlie’s voice struck me from behind. Softer than normal. As if he needed to approach me with caution and not all the ease he had before Lyrik had messed up the security I’d established in this life.

I really hated that, too.

I glanced at my old friend. At the piece of family I’d found here. The flare of unease trembling my insides warned I was soon to lose this false sanctuary, too.

A coy smile spread across my face. Forced. Fake. “Holding up just fine, old man. How about you? Looks like Nathan could use some help rather than you standing looking over my shoulder like you have nothing better to do.”

I shot it at him like a teasing taunt, a single eyebrow arching right along with the arch of my upper lip.

A smile flickered beneath his scraggly beard, though his brown eyes remained soft. “Well…I guess since you’ve got it all under control, I’d better make myself busy.”

Under control.

Right.

“You sure you don’t need anything?” he added.

I shooed him. “Go on…I’ve got it handled. The last thing I need is you slowing me down. You know I live for the hustle.”

Backing away, he held his hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. Message received. Tamar is just fine…all on her own.”

I scowled in his direction. I knew what he was doing. What he was implying. The way his tone went fatherly and his words filled with concern.

“Yep. I’m perfectly fine. On my own,” I emphasized.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, sugar. Just know you aren’t foolin’ anyone but yourself. But I’d bet you aren’t even managing that.”

Charlie gave me a pointed stare before he turned and headed over to check on Nathan, and I forced my attention back on my job.

And I did just that.

Tried to pretend everything was fine.

To pretend I wasn’t falling apart.

Rending.

Splitting.

Crumbling.

Tried to pretend I didn’t have the sensation of being fractured in two.

Sophie, one of the weekend waitresses, set her tray down on the bar and leaned over it.

“How’s that order coming?” she asked. “Table nineteen is about to lose their shit.” She sighed dramatically. “Sometimes I wish the frat boys wouldn’t come out to play.”

It seemed a miracle, but low laughter rolled from my tongue. I gave her an amused shake of my head. “You and me both. Just give me…two…seconds…” I drew out as I finished pouring tequila across three shot glasses.

I slid the drinks to her. “There you go, gorgeous. Don’t let those boys get to you. Not any of them are worth it.”

None of them. Not for a second.

“Thank you.” She situated them on her tray, shot me a smile, calling over her shoulder as she walked away, “Wish me luck.”

“Good lu—” The words locked in my throat when the front doors swung open, which they’d been doing all night. But this time…this time they stopped me in my tracks.

Awareness spread.

Tension wound.

Tighter and harder and faster.

Gaining speed as it barreled forward like a speeding train.

Malicious and dark and foreboding.

My heart stalled before it took off at a sprint. Wild and offbeat.

Ash strode in like he owned the place, his dimpled grin and hungry gaze taking in the churning mayhem dancing within the old walls. It was clear he was all too keen to add to it.

Two steps behind was Zee.

But it was the boy who followed them who might as well have stood out in front.

Eclipsing all.

Like shattering, splintering light.

That sinister man rode in on all his raving intensity. His body was rigid, as if that wild energy was condensed and compounded. Gathering to a pinpoint.

Set to fire.

Cutting down anyone and anything in its path like the devastating shockwave of an atom bomb.

The buzz before the strike.

But this time, the strike just might prove fatal.

How sick was it I still wanted him? That after seeing that photo and hearing his words, I still clung to the moments we’d shared as if they’d somehow counted. When he’d laid them all to waste.

Two weeks. Two weeks of silence. Silence in the shape of loud, thrashing, violent music through the walls. After all we’d shared physically, emotionally, he’d simply let go. Let me go. Not a word. Not an explanation. As if he owed me nothing.

Why did I always want the things that would harm me most?

Furtively, I cut my eyes his way, hoping he wouldn’t notice but needing one last image to keep for when he was gone.

Memorizing.

It wasn’t so hard. There was no chance I could forget. Tonight he wore a tight white V-neck tee. The tattoos I’d come to know so well vibrated beneath bunched muscle, as if every fiber of him seethed with his own anger.

Emotion burned behind my traitorous eyes, and just as fast as I’d looked, I turned my back before he could catch the anguish I was certain painted every inch of my expression.

For the second time that day, my hands shot forward to keep myself standing, my body jerking as I clutched the edge of the bar and tried to prepare myself to again come face to face with Lyrik West. I tried to find safety behind the walls I had built. To gain solid ground. To fortify and protect.