Because they understand. Finally. I do too. But I didn’t then.
My vision blurs, and I blink rapidly, taking a deep breath. “I thought you were just messing with me, and then you gave me a room key.” A watery laugh escapes me. “And then I thought you wanted to hook up.”
The scoff of disdain from Gabriel lands like a spear in my side. I can’t look at him now. Maybe not ever again.
“I know you did, honey,” Jax says gently. “And now you know; I was counting on you to show up.”
“Why?” I whisper. “Why me?”
He shrugs. “I figured, she’s a nice girl. Too nice for her shit job. She needs money. And I won’t be here so…why not go out with a good deed?”
Killian lurches to his feet, knocking over his chair. He stalks out of the room without another word. Libby soon follows with a muttered, “I’ll talk to him.”
The ensuing silence is heavy, and I want to hunch inward, run away. But I can’t hide from my mistakes. I tried that before. It didn’t work.
“I’m so sorry,” I rasp. “That night—it was the worst night of my life. Worst thing I’ve ever done.”
Jax shakes his head. “You were doing your job—”
“No!” I grit my teeth. “No, I was selling short my humanity and yours. I should have dropped my camera and helped. I should have done anything other than take those pictures and let them get out.”
“We’ve all done things we regret,” Jax says. “I just want you and everyone else to know I don’t hold it against you. I’m cool with you working with us now.”
God. I don’t deserve his calm acceptance.
“Stay.” Whip’s face is pale, but he leans forward and nods as if coming to a decision. “Jax is right. And you’re obviously good at what you do or Brenna wouldn’t have brought you here.”
“Yeah,” Rye puts in. “It will be good for all of us. And for you too. Cathartic, you know?”
Who are these guys? Really. I expected to be egged at this point.
“Look, I’m cool with this.” Rye stands. “I hope you join us. Anything that shakes things up can’t be bad.”
Whip stands as well. “Killian will come around. Jax will talk to him.”
They both come shake my hand. “Sorry for the drama,” Whip says with a wink. “But it’s kind of hard to escape around here.”
Jax makes his way over to me as Whip and Rye leave. His warm hand rests on my shoulder. “I’m glad I got to talk to you. I always meant to track you down and apologize. It was shitty to use you that way.”
“I’m so glad you made it,” I say in a rush. “That you’re healthy and here.”
His smile is tight but friendly. “Whatever you decide, come hang out with us later tonight. We’ll have fun, Soph. Trust me.”
He gives me a kiss on the cheek and Brenna a look I can’t interpret before leaving.
“This is a mistake,” Gabriel says as soon as the door closes.
I flinch, and he meets my eyes. Everything I saw in him before is gone. He’s ice now—so solid, so polished, I’m surprised I don’t see my reflection in his skin. His voice is strong but monotone, just another day at the office.
“You regret your actions. Jax takes responsibility for his part. None of that matters when it comes to this tour.”
“I’m not following you, Scottie,” Brenna says. Mostly, she’s been quiet, letting everyone talk. But there’s steel in her spine now.
He sits back in his chair, setting one ankle on his bent knee. Such cool repose, as if he isn’t kicking me to the curb when he promised he wouldn’t interfere.
“We’ve only just reached the point where the band is a fully functioning unit again. They’re finally burying old wounds. You bring this element of mistrust into the mix, and you’re risking all of that.”
“I’m a person, not an element.” I shouldn’t let him see that I’m upset, but fucking hell, I am. I thought we had at the very least a small glimmer of mutual…I don’t know, regard. I held him in his darkest hour, and now I’m a fucking element? “And if the guys are cool with it, why should you protest?”
“Because it is my job to think rationally when they either cannot or will not.” He looks at me as though I’m nothing more than a piece furniture in the room. “This is a matter of business, Ms. Darling. Nothing personal.”
“Bullshit. Everything is personal. Especially business. You judge a person and decide whether you trust them enough to work with them or not.” A shudder of rage and hurt runs through me. “You’ve made your decision, Mr. Scott. Don’t weaken it by pretending it’s nothing personal.”
God, he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink. Just sits there, facing me head on with those eyes the color of glacial ice.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Darling.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I bet you are.”