Jardin's Gamble (Haven, Texas 9)

12

Jardin turned and walked back to Carrick. He was torn. Part of him wanted to race after her. But another part wanted to deal with the issue right in front of him.

Carrick.

God, he’d missed him. He hadn’t handled Sally’s death well. He knew that. He’d lashed out at the one person who’d always been there for him. The one person who’d been hurting as much as he had.

“Aren’t you going to go after your girlfriend?” Carrick asked bitterly.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he growled.

“Sorry . . . fuck-buddy.”

Jardin ground his teeth together, holding back the need to lash out. Carrick was doing enough of that. He turned to the owner who was still hovering worriedly. “Emmanuel, can we borrow your private room for a moment?”

“Of course, Mr. Malone.”

“What if I don’t want to talk to you,” Carrick bit out, glaring down at him.

Once, he’d been closer to this man than anyone. Now? Now, he was looking at him with hatred. And the worst thing was, Jardin knew he deserved every bit of that hate.

But Thea didn’t and he couldn’t understand why Carrick had acted the way he had. It had been obvious by the end that Carrick’s relationship with Sally was messed up. Or maybe it had been like that for a while and Jardin hadn’t noticed.

“I get it,” Jardin told him. “I wouldn’t want to speak to me either.”

Carrick gave him a shocked look.

“But you seem to have some misconceptions about Thea and her role in whatever you think is going on.”

Carrick frowned.

“I’ve never known you to hurt a woman, no matter how angry you were,” Jardin added.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her. I barely touched her.” Shame crept into Carrick’s face then it was chased away by bitterness.

Since when had he become so angry?

Maybe since you kicked him out of your life without listening to his side of things?

“I don’t deserve your time, but I’m asking for it.”

“Fine. Fuck. What have I got to lose, right? Just need to go tell my accountant I’ll have to postpone our chat.” Carrick walked over to a middle-aged, balding man who was watching their interaction with unabashed interest.

The man nodded at whatever he said, then Carrick and Jardin followed Emmanuel to the back room.

Carrick started pacing. As usual, he was dressed all in black. Tight T-shirt, jeans, and boots. Jardin looked him over with admiration, taking in the way his T-shirt molded to his arms and chest.

Jardin had never been interested in men. Except for Carrick.

“You’ve got five minutes,” Carrick said sharply. “You gonna spend the whole time staring at me or you want to explain what the fuck is going on?”

Jardin narrowed his gaze, working hard to keep his need to snap back under control. He wasn’t used to riding the edge of his temper. He made cool and calm decisions. He didn’t let emotions filter through. The last time he’d done that he’d lost the man standing in front of him.

“I made a mistake.”

“Excuse me?” Carrick asked.

“When I told you to get out, I was fueled by emotion. You know emotions and I don’t do well together. I said what I did in anger and grief and I didn’t mean it. But that doesn’t excuse it. I said it and I’ve regretted it ever since. Regretted that it cost me you.”