Page 21 of Piston

I make my way over, determined to get some answers. "Boys," I greet them, trying to keep my tone light. "Y'all are shit at pool, you know that?"

Tank snorts. "Like you could do better, J."

But there's no real heat behind the jab. They shift uncomfortably, eyes darting anywhere but my face. The tension is so thick, I could cut it with my knife.

"Alright, what's going on?" I demand, hands on my hips. "Y'all are acting squirrelly as fuck. And where's Piston?"

Dagger and Tank exchange a loaded glance. "Dunno," Dagger says with a shrug. "Haven't seen him."

But I can tell he's lying. They both are. Anger flares hot in my chest. Something's going down, and they're shutting me out. Again.

I'm about to press harder when Carlie waddles over, one hand on her massive baby bump. "There you are, bitch!" she crows. "Get your ass over here, I'm starving and I need someone to make fun of my weird cravings."

I hesitate, torn between the desire to grill the guys and the pleading look on my best friend's face. Shit. Piston will have to wait.

I plaster on a grin and let Carlie drag me away, but my mind is still racing. What the fuck is going on? And why do I have a sinking feeling that it's all about to blow up in my face?

Carlie plops down on the beat-up leather couch, patting the spot beside her. "Park it, bitch. I've got a whole spread here and I need your expert opinion."

I settle in next to her, eyeing the bizarre array of food on the coffee table. Pickles, peanut butter, hot sauce, and... is that a fucking anchovy pizza?

"Damn, girl," I laugh, momentarily distracted from my Piston-related spiral. "You planning on feeding an army with all this?"

"Shut up," Carlie grumbles, reaching for a pickle and dunking it straight into the peanut butter jar. "I'm eating for two now, remember?"

I watch, equal parts fascinated and horrified, as she takes a massive bite. "Yeah, but I'm pretty sure the baby doesn't want anchovy pizza with hot sauce."

"Don't knock it till you've tried it," she mumbles around a mouthful of pickle.

I can't help but smile at her antics. This right here? This is the Carlie I know and love, the one who's been my ride-or-die since we were just a couple of bratty teenagers raising hell.

For a minute, I let myself forget about the weirdness with the guys, about Piston's conspicuous absence. I snag a slice of pizza, yelping when Carlie smacks my hand away from the hot sauce.

"Nuh-uh, bitch," she warns. "That's all mine."

We dissolve into laughter, the kind that makes my ribs ache and tears stream down my face. But even as I lose myself in the moment, I can't shake the nagging sense that something's off.

My eyes keep darting to the door, half-expecting Piston to come swaggering in with that cocky grin of his. But as the minutes tick by and he still doesn't show, a new fear takes root in my gut.

What if he's out there right now with some club whore, letting her put her hands all over him? What if that night we shared, the one that felt so fucking real, didn't actually mean shit to him?

The thought makes me see red. I've been down this road before, and I swore I'd never let myself get played again. Not by Piston, not by anybody.

Carlie must sense the shift in my mood, because she sets down her slice of pizza and levels me with a look. "Alright, spill. What's going on in that head of yours?"

I open my mouth to brush her off, to insist that everything's fine. But the words won't come. Because really, who am I kidding? Carlie knows me better than anyone.

So instead, I take a deep breath and let the truth spill out.

"I just thought..." I start, my voice catching in my throat. "I thought maybe Piston and I had something, you know? After the other night, when we went out for dinner and actually talked. Like, really talked."

Carlie's eyes widen. "Wait, hold up. You went on a date with Piston?"

"Not a date, exactly. But it felt... different. Like maybe there was more to him than just the tough biker act." I shrug, picking at the label on my beer bottle. "Guess I read too much into it."

"Oh, honey." Carlie reaches over and squeezes my hand. "You can't think like that. From what I've seen, Piston's not the type to play games. If he's not here tonight, there's gotta be a reason."

I nod, trying to let her words sink in. But the doubt is still there, gnawing at the edges of my mind.

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