Page 90 of Spinner's Luck

Her smirk widened, but there was no warmth in it. “Just surprised. Figured you finally realized you don’t belong here. Especially after Spinner chose me.”

Jesus, she never stopped.

I sucked in air through my nose, counting to three and wondering if patience was just another word for bullshit. Spinner deserved whatever hell this monster he created would drag him through.

I closed in, words dropping like a threat. “Speak up or step off, Ashlynn, I don’t have the energy for your reality-show bullshit.”

She stood in one smooth motion, closing the distance between us until we were face-to-face. Too close. Her perfume was thick, suffocating, like she was trying too damn hard to stake her claim.

“Spinner made his choice,” she said, her voice softer now, but dripping with malice. “So keep your distance.”

I smiled, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “Did he?”

I leaned in just enough that only she could hear me, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Because I’m getting a whole different vibe. But if hedidchoose you, then shut the hell up and leave me alone. Stop following me around, stop bugging me. It’s annoying as shit.”

Her expression cracked just for a second, her nails digging into her arms so hard I thought she might draw blood. But she didn’t say a damn word.

Good.

I turned on my heel and walked away without looking back.

These patch chasers were a whole other level of territorial. They never knew when to back the fuck off.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

I FELT LIKEthe walls were closing in, pressingagainst my chest. It wasn’t the noise from my childhood. It was her.

Lucy.

She’d been back less than an hour, and she was making it loud and clear we were done.

I sat at the bar, nursing another damn drink that had gone warm in my hand, my eyes locked on her across the room. She was with Fiona, talking like she’d never left. Like she hadn’t walked out of here without a second glance.

But she had left.

And she’d made damn sure I knew she wasn’t back here for me.

“You’re brooding,” Gearhead said, sliding onto the stool next to me.

I shot him a look. “I’m not fuckin’brooding.”

He smirked, nodding toward my glass. “You’ve been starin’ at that drink for ten minutes without taking a sip. That’s brooding.”

I grunted, tipping the glass back and draining it in one go. “Happy now?”

“Not really,” he said, leaning against the bar. “You can’t fix shit with Lucy from here.”

“She’s made it clear there’s nothin’ to fix,” I muttered, my voice tight.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing toward Lucy. “She’s lyin’.”

I followed his gaze, my jaw clenching as I watched Fiona stand and leave the common room. Lucy acted like she didn’t care who was watching, but I knew better. That look in her eyes? That wasn’t indifference.

It was anger.

“She hates me,” I said quietly, more to myself than Gearhead.

He shrugged. “Can you blame her?”

---