Not his fucking style.
“Right,” she said. “Well, have fun.”
He winked. “Always do. ’Night, babe.” The insane urge to bend down and take her mouth in a searing goodbye kiss almost knocked him to his knees. Instead, he nodded and left. Walked straight out to his SUV without another word.
But as he reached for the door handle, he turned and gazed through the window at the pair sitting in the booth. Gumby’s hand now reached across the table, covering Jazz’s. A soft smile tilted her lips as she reconnected with a man she hadn’t seen in more than a year. A man she clearly had history with.
Something dark and ugly twisted low in Screw’s gut. He felt murderous and ill at the same time, wanting to smash through the glass and rip Gumby away from Jazz all while dropping to his knees to vomit the drinks he’d consumed earlier.
The only problem was, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to beat the shit out of Gumby or shove him against a wall and fuck the shit out of him while Jazz watched.
And waited for her turn.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JAZZ WOKE THE next morning to the same knot of guilt she’d fallen asleep with. It’d caused her to toss and turn for hours, eventually falling into a dream-filled sleep that felt completely inadequate. At least she didn’t have to work today. Though she did have a house guest to entertain.
God, why had she offered him her guest room?
Oh, right, the guilt.
They’d talked for quite a while. After Gumby had reassured her everyone she cared about back in Arizona was safe, healthy, and happy, he’d jumped right in and asked why the hell she left without a word and cut off all contact.
So she’d lied.
At least partially. She’d told him she needed to break out on her own. Get away from the small, shitty town she’d grown up in and experience more of the world. If he thought it weird she’d settled in another small town with an MC, thankfully he didn’t voice it. Nor did he say whether he’d bought her bullshit answer.
She hadn’t left to find herself. She’d left for one very serious and specific reason.
Fear.
At the time, she’d felt she had no other option and informing the MC would not only have exposed her shame and humiliation but would have set off a chain of events that could have ended in a death.
At the time, and for months, she’d placed a huge portion of blame on Gumby. He’d canceled their date which ended up being the catalyst for events that had altered her life permanently. He’d become the focus of her hatred. Had he kept the date, she’d never have been home, never have suffered. But he’d had club business. And he’d bailed on her.
It’d been so easy, giving him her anger. And perhaps for a time, it’d been necessary. The rage and hatred she’d harbored enabled her to leave despite the terror of venturing out into the world all on her own. She’d fed the anger, nurtured it until it grew into full-on hatred of a man she’d had very strong feelings for.
A man who did not deserve any of her ire.
At some point, maybe seven months ago, when she’d realized she’d found happiness in Townsend, Tennessee, her mind released some of its anger, replacing it with guilt and shame. Because Gumby was in no way to blame for what had happened to her. He’d just been an easy outlet for the jumbled mess of ugly feelings born from trauma.
At that point, she’d convinced herself that Gumby, and everyone she’d left behind in Arizona, must hate her, which made it easy to continue to avoid contact. But now she knew the truth. They’d all suffered when she’d fled. All worried about her. All missed her.
But none more than Gumby, or so he’d said.
“I’ve had Acer looking for you since you left. I’ve never felt right about it. Always felt I’d done something to drive you away.” He’d stared at his hands, flat on the table as he’d said that. Something about the familiar grease stains under his blunt nails had tears forming in her eyes. Showed some things stayed the same even after the passage of so much time. Even after her life had completely changed.
She owed him a lot. An apology. An explanation. The truth.
The first two she’d given willingly, even if the explanation was a lie because the third was impossible.
Jazz blew out a breath just as her phone buzzed from her night table. Probably one of her girls wondering what the hell happened to her last night. She’d shot Holly a text as she was leaving so her friend wouldn’t worry, but didn’t exactly clue her in to what had gone down
God, she needed some coffee and fast.
Raking a hand through her short hair, she grabbed the phone.