Page 161 of Till The Sun Dies (Checkmate 2)

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Angelo

Winner Winner

Istep down off the stage and ignore the grabbing hands of women wanting a piece of our two-man band. I figure they want Kane – our dancing monkey – but since he sprinted away the second our hands were raised in the air as victors, the grabby women make do with me as second best. Kane had the right idea – sweeping Jessie into his arms and kissing her so indecently half the bar have to excuse themselves to somewhere more private – so I brush past the hands and make a beeline straight for the woman I’m done pretending I don’t love.

Why shouldn’t we be together?

Someone tell me why the fuck not.

Laughing, even though her hands are shaking, Laine slides off her stool and meets me halfway across the room. When we bump into each other, I slide my arm around her hips to hold her up. “Hey. Having fun?”

“You sang Backstreet Boys!” She laughs. “That wasn’t fair.”

“Oh, please. You practically stripped to Britney. We had to do something to get the win.”

“I really wanted the Charger.”

Our fingers twine together and send a shot of adrenaline through my blood. Neither of us mention our hands, we just ignore the obvious and keep smiling.

“And now you’ve gotta write a song with me. How does it taste to lose?”

She scrunches her lips in such a way I’m tempted to lean in and bite. “It’s sour and yucky,” she whines. “I’ll give you the hundred and a song, but you still lost the last two bets. It’s important I never let you forget it.”

“I lost the baby bet, but the manual bet isn’t over. Give him time to get to the post office.”

Rolling her eyes, she turns and flames red when she sees Kane basically seducing her sister against the bar. Jess’ arms are wrapped around the back of his neck, one leg resting around his hip, and her tongue down his throat.

Or his down hers.

It’s a mutual choking session.

I turn back to study Laine in the dark room, but she’s not watching them. She watches me. “How does that make you feel?”

My stomach jumps. “What?”

She nods back toward the bar. “Them. How does it feel to see Jess do that?”

“Umm…” We’re cutting straight to the chase then, I guess. No more evasions. No more bullshit. “Ah… It makes me a little jealous that he gets to be with hisone, I guess. I’m jealous that he found her, and now they have that freedom to be together.”

Her eyes narrow with suspicion. “Do you want to be with Jessie?”

“No.” Sliding my hand along her arm and over the raised skin where her scar now reminds us both how short life is, I twine my fingers with hers, and smile when her eyes widen. “Not Jessie. Definitely not Jess. But I’m jealous of their freedom, because not everyone gets that.”

Her eyes flick between mine as though trying to read between the lines. “Why are you jealous of their freedom? What’s stopping you from taking what you want?”

“Fear.” I shrug when my answer surprises her. “I once told you I’m not afraid of anything, but that was a lie. I’m afraid of a lot of things, but mostly I’m scared of hurting myone.”

Her cheeks color. “Your one?”

“Uh-huh, my one. I’m terrified of making the wrong move, of scaring her, of hurting what we have and becoming her nightmares. I’m terrified of breaking someone pure and perfect, so every time I think I can be brave and tell her how I feel, I freeze up with fear that my words will hurt her.”

Swallowing, she brings her spare hand up to play with the crystal I gave her. “You speak like she’s someone you know, not hypothetical.” The next singers on stage belt out tone deaf lyrics, but I hear nothing, I see nothing but her eyes. “She’s a real person?”

I nod. “She’s real. She’s so fucking perfect and beautiful.”

Shyly, she looks away and pretends to scan the crowd. “She’s here?”

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