There was a loud pounding on the door. “Hey, unlock the door,” demanded a girl with a high-pitched whine that sounded a lot like Cake-face. “You having sex in there?”
I stiffened. “Toilet overflowed. Share with the boys,” I shouted.
There was a shuffling of feet and drunken curses.
I squeezed his arm. “Vic, I’m so sorry. What have the doctors said about his chances?”
He stared down at the stone floor between us. “Not much. Just wait and see if he wakes up.” He inhaled a breath and raised his head. “Fifty-fifty.”
“Did they catch the person who shot him?”
A glacial shield lowered over his eyes. “Yeah. Kai dealt with it.”
I didn’t ask if the man was dead. I was under no misconceptions as to what they did, and that it was hardly legal. So, it was unlikely they’d let the law deal with a man who shot one of their own.
His finger and thumb cupped my chin. “I’m not used to keeping in touch, Rainbird.” His voice was husky and low, almost as if he didn’t want to say the words. “It’s easier. No attachments. If there’s nothing to come back for, there is nothing to lose. Nothing anyone can use against me.”
Oh God. I couldn’t help myself, and placed my hands on his chest, feeling his heart beating a steady thrum.
His thumb stroked back and forth over my chin. “Every second I was gone, I thought about you. I thought about Jackson.” His jaw flexed. “Didn’t want to. Tried not to, but it’s too late, baby.” His thumb grazed my bottom lip, and it took everything not to take it in my mouth. “I won’t make a promise I can’t keep. That means I’ll never promise you I’ll come back from a mission. But I don’t want to go another day with breath still in my lungs without knowing you’re mine.”
Oh God.
Toilets flushed next door in the boys’ washroom, and the girls’ was inundated with flowery perfumes mixed with bleach. And yet, I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. This is what I’d remember. No matter where it led.
My fingers curled in his T-shirt, and his brows furrowed for a second before he shifted closer between my legs. “I need time to do this right,” he murmured. “Don’t want to fuck it up. It means I need to talk to your brother.”
My heart skidded to a stop. “What? Why?”
His hand dropped from my chin. “Because he means something to you.”
I shook my head. “My brother and I aren’t close anymore. Haven’t been for years. He won’t care if I’m with you, Vic.”
He shoved away from me. “He’ll care, Macayla.”
I reached for his arm, fingers curling around it. “Vic. I don’t understand. Ethan has never cared about who I’ve dated. All he cares about is hockey. I never even told him about Jackson. Not until I got him back.”
“But you would’ve if your father hadn’t convinced you that Ethan would’ve hurt his career if he had had known.”
I stiffened, releasing his arm and staring at the square of toilet paper on the floor.
“What aren’t you telling me, Macayla? Why was your father so adamant that Ethan not know?”
A cold tremor trickled through me. The pounding music. The muffled laughter.
The sweet, sugary smell.
I trembled, and Vic was instantly there, sending the thoughts sinking back into the deep caverns of my mind. His arm hooked my waist, and his fingers curled around the back of my neck. Tears pooled in my eyes.
“Baby, look at me.” I didn’t. His fingers tightened. “Christ, look at me.”
He’d know. The second I looked at him he’d know. He’d see it in my eyes, and I couldn’t risk that.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
A tear trailed down my cheek and dripped off my jaw to land on my thigh and soaked into the denim. There were so many emotions tearing through me at the same time. I couldn’t latch on to just one.
Vic cupped my face in his hands. “Baby,” he whispered.