Page 17 of The Price of My Sins

I swallowed hard, the truth thick in my throat. “I can’t keep stringing him along, hoping he’ll wait for me to figure my shit out. He deserves more than that. He deserves better than me.” The last words slipped out in a whisper as if I hadn’t meant to say them out loud.

Lexi leaned forward, her voice soft but serious. “O, what are you not telling me?” I glanced up, caught off guard by how much concern was in her eyes. “A blind man could see what’s between you and Bo. Y’all still feelin’ each other. Hard. Hell, if you ask me… from how you two were… that’s love. So, talk to me, friend. Don’t shut me out.”

I blinked back the sudden heat behind my eyes. “It’s not that simple, Lex. Loving someone doesn’t fix everything. And Bo… he saw parts of me I wasn’t ready to face. He looked at me like I was magic, and instead of allowing that feeling to cement itself, I kept pushing him away.”

Lexi shook her head. “That man didn’t want magic. He wanted you. Even when you were a mess, especially then. So, if you’re really done, say it. But if you’re scared… say that too.”

“Like I said, Lex… it’s complicated. Right now, I just want to enjoy today. It’s your birthday, and I’m not trying to spoil your day with my shit. I promise… I’ll talk to you. Give me a few days, okay?” I assured her.

“Okay. A few days, O.” She gave me a stern look, and I chuckled.

“I got you, boo.”

And just like that, the mood was back to normal.

By the time I pulled up to the club, the city had shifted into night mode—neon lights flickering and music pulsing through the air like a heartbeat. The line outside Deuce's spot wrapped halfway around the block, but I skipped it, of course. Lexi, being my friend, meant VIP everything for me.

The bouncer grinned and unhooked the rope for me. “Hey, Olivia.” He smiled, allowing me to enter inside.

The bass hit my chest as I walked through the club. The place was packed—bodies moving, drinks flowing, and the energy high. It felt like the kind of night where anything could happen.

Lexi appeared, looking good as fuck in her gold dress that left shit to the imagination. My boo was killing it! And Denim wasn’t slouching at all. I screamed, “Happy Birthday!” while Denim pulled me toward the bar.

“Are you drinking or pacing yourself?” she asked.

“I'm drinking!” I said with no hesitation. “Tonight is not the night for moderation.”

“Denim, we have a bunch of bottles in our section. Why are we going to the bar?” Lexi probed.

“Because… if we go upstairs, Boston is not going to let me come back down here. This is where all the action is at. So, let’s get some shots and hit the dance floor before he and the drill sergeant come looking for us,” she said, speaking of her husband and Deuce.

“Don’t do my husband, bitch. I can’t help it if my man is obsessed and a bit unhinged. That shit’s sexy as fuck to me!” Lexi stuck her tongue out while twerking.

We ordered tequila while Lexi had juice and tossed the first shot back without a toast. No words were needed. Wewere celebrating tonight. The warmth slid down my throat, smoothing out the edge I'd been carrying all day. I turned to take in the room, scanning without meaning to. And just like that, I felt it. That shift in the air was undeniable. I didn't see him yet, but I felt him.Like a song starting in the background before the first lyric hits, my stomach did a slow, traitorous flip. Then, there he was, standing near the back lounge. He was talking to some guy, drink in his left hand, and looking like a glass of fine Cognac. His smooth, bald head shined under the club lights, and his beard was groomed to perfection. I just knew he smelled good because Bo always smelled delicious. I bit my lip, not meaning to, trying to turn away.

The black button-up that hugged his chest in all the right places with sleeves rolled up enough to show off those forearms that had no business looking that good. The gold chain I’d bought him glinted softly beneath the collar, resting right where I laid my head many nights.

Bo had that quiet confidence, the kind that didn’t ask for attention but commanded it. Whatever room he walked into belonged to him the moment he stepped inside, and all who watched knew it to be true.

He hadn’t seen me yet, and for a second, I was glad. It gave me a chance to stare. To feel. To remember. Maybe I should've looked away. Maybe I should've pretended I didn't see him at all. But I didn't. I just stood there, drinking him in, wishing things were different and that he was mine and I was his.

Bo's laugh was cut short like he'd suddenly forgotten what the person next to him was saying. His eyes scanned the room as if he felt me before they locked onto mine. To me, the whole damn club dimmed. The music, the lights, and the crowd, all of it faded behind the heat of our stare. For a second, neither of us moved. No smile, no wave—just a thousand unsaid things hanging between us in the space of a single glance.

His expression didn't shift much, but I knew him too well to miss the flicker in his eyes. Surprise, or maybe regret, rested there. But his eyes looked tired like mine.

It has been two weeks since I last saw him. The day I popped up at his ranch house, and he told me he was done with my ass for good, was our last encounter. Bo had said those words before, but this time, they were different. This time, I could feel it. There was no anger in his voice, just finality. The look in his eyes said everything: he was tired, he was done, and he was finished, and I can’t say that I blame him. If the shoe was on the other foot, I’d have given up too.

Denim leaned in, following my gaze. “Damn, y’all locked in like you two are the only ones in the room. That’s some deep shit, sis.”

“I wish,” I said quietly, without looking at her.

He took a slow sip from his cup, his eyes still on me. Then, just like that, he looked away, leaving me craving for his eyes to land back on me. I wanted to go to him, but I stayed still, my pussy thumping, wanting to feel his dick sliding inside of me until I begged him to go deeper. Just as I was about to turn around, someone grabbed my arm.

“Damn, you staring at that nigga real hard. That’s why you're out here dressed like a hoe?” the voice said, slurred and cold.

Josh.

I turned around, snatching my arm back. Josh grilled me, his eyes showing his anger like he had every right to be handling me.

---