Jake knew all about my foster family. He often came to Sunday dinners; he’d even asked Diogo for permission to marry me before he proposed six months ago.
But he didn’t know, understand, or like Nova.
“I’ve told you a hundred times,” I said wearily. “Nothing. He hurt my feelings a while back, and we never recovered from it.”
In fact, he hurt my feelings the night I’d met Jake.
After Nova had successfully eviscerated my heart, I’d stormed out of the party, Harleigh Rose following me without permission as I called Hudson to beg him to drive us down to Vancouver.
I was drunk, I was twenty-one, and I was still virgin.
That would not do.
So, armed with my fury, my best friend, and my new favourite foster brother, we’d headed downtown to one of the clubs on Davy Street to find me a hookup.
Five minutes in, I’d spotted Jake. Tall, lean, handsome and Italianate looking.
Harleigh Rose thought he looked like a clean-cut version of Nova.
I didn’t care.
He was gorgeous, and when I approached him, I felt his appreciation in the way his gaze took in the flare of my hips and my hair as it swung over my exposed belly.
He’d been mine ever since.
Whether or not I was fully his….well, that was another subject.
“Seems you have unresolved business there,” Jake ventured. “Maybe you should try to talk it out?”
I smiled at him, squeezing his thigh as I leaned closer to kiss his smooth-shaven cheek. “I do talk to him. He’s a Booth. It would be next to impossible to avoid him,” though I’d tried. “Trust me, it’s nothing time won’t heal.”
As if sensing our conversation, Nova chose that moment to turn his back to the bar and rest his elbows on the wood behind him so he could do a visual sweep of the room. His tee stretched tight against the swell of muscles beneath, the black a perfect contrast to the bright tapestry of his ink.
It took him ten seconds to find me, and I knew the moment he did not because I could see his eyes in the dimness, but because his entire demeanor changed. The lax set of his heavy body leaning against the bar went stiff, his shoulders rolled back and up, his jaw set like stone.
I didn’t smile, and neither did he.
Instead, we stared at each other for a beat that felt like a century. I could feel the roots of him tug hard around my heart, urging me to go to him.
I blinked, Boner thumped him on the shoulder, and our connection broke.
“We’re fine,” I repeated softly to Jake, even though nothing felt fine.
“You’ve been through a lot lately, if he’s your family, he should support you,” Jake said reasonably.
Inside, I winced. I hadn’t told Jake just how much Nova had supported me throughout my entire life. He’d saved Ignacio from death, dropped out of high school to make money for his parents to foster Dane and I, and he’d picked up the pieces of me that had blown up when we found out Dane wasn’t coming home again.
He’d done nothing but support me until that one incident in the bathroom.
Fuck me, but it was enough to make a girl feel wretched for keeping distance.
“I think he’s into you.”
I blinked, abruptly cut off from my reverie. “Excuse me?”
“I think he is into you,” Jake enunciated. “Honestly, Lila, sometimes I don’t think you see yourself properly. You’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen, and that’s even with tattoos. You’re loving, loyal, funny, and kind. Just because the guy is your foster brother doesn’t mean he’s indifferent to you.”
“He’s family,” I reiterated, but it felt hollow.
“He moved out when you were a kid. Yeah, maybe Milo and Oliver, definitely Hudson, see you as their sister, but this guy?” He narrowed his eyes as he peered across the busy bar at Nova who had his arms loosely crossed over the bar, leaning forward to flirt with the bartender, Olivia. “He’s too far removed to have the same familial blindness the other do.”
“You’re just being jealous,” I teased, somewhat desperately because I did not want to keep talking about Nova. “It’s cute.”
Jake scowled, but I laughed at him and kissed the corner of his pouting mouth. If I did it knowing Nova was watching, knowing he would see me happy and in love, that didn’t make me a bad person, did it?
“There she is,” a voice rasped from beside us, and I turned away from Jake to see Bat Stephens standing at the edge of the booth, tattooed knuckles spelling out the words ‘Hell Bent’ facing us as he leaned against his fists. “The girl we never see anymore.”
“Hey, Bat,” I said softly because I’d always had a tender regard from the man.
Arguably, he was one of the scariest Fallen men, stern faced, scarred from wars overseas, and haunted by the demons he’d collected there. He always wore his Colt M45A1 on his hip, remained taciturn at the best of times, and never, ever cracked a smile for strangers.