Page 92 of Second Sin

“Yeah,” I say. “Sure.”

Outside, the air cuts sharp against my face. My breath fogs. I pull out my phone.

I press her name. Let it ring. Voicemail.

I hang up before the beep.

The way she looked at me this morning—careful, quiet, worried in that soft way that guts me—made it worse.

Because she saw it.

The crack.

The part I try to keep sealed shut.

And I didn’t let her in. I shut her out like it meant nothing. Like she didn’t matter.

But she does.

I don’t want to be that man anymore. The jackass who shuts people out before they get too close. Who lashes out. But I felt like him today—angry and reckless, too full of noise to let anything good stay.

The lounge hums with music and laughter. A distraction. I welcome it.

We slide into a corner booth, the leather worn to shit, the table sticky in places. Kane orders three whiskeys before I can say a word. “Blake’s on his way.”

I stare down at my phone. Thumb out a text.

Sorry about this morning. Hope you had a good day.

It’s stiff. Too formal. But it’s all I’ve got.

I fucking hate texting.

What I really want is to hear her voice. Something real. Something that anchors me.

Blake slides into the booth a minute later, grinning like a goddamn idiot.

“Kiley’s pregnant again.”

Kane lights up. “That’s great. Congratulations, man.”

“Yeah,” I echo. “Congrats.”

Blake glows like it’s Christmas and every gift under the tree’s got his name on it.

I take a slow sip of whiskey and try to ignore the flicker in my chest. The part of me that wonders what it would feel like to have that kind of life. Something steady.

The second drink goes down easier than the first.

Kane starts in on a story about his kid climbing into bed every night and kicking him like he’s training for the World Cup. Blake jumps in with something about his daughter trying to name the new baby “Bluey.”

They laugh. It’s real. Easy.

Two women drift over. Dressed like they knew what bar we’d be at.

“You guys celebrating?” one asks, voice too sweet to be genuine.

Kane lifts his hand. “Married.”

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