Page 79

It starts low, with a soul-deep hum.

They dance in the middle of the living room like it’s their personal stage, Sienna belting lyrics while Lena twirls and laughs so hard that she nearly tips into the sofa. They’re all wild hair and swaying hips.

“You two are fucking soft,” Julian mutters, dragging me out of my Lena-induced haze.

I blink, still half-lost in the image of her laughing under those dim lights, then glance over at Nathan. He’s not paying attention. At all. He’s got that stupid, moony-eyed expression locked on Sienna.

“Aww,” Nathan says, finally breaking free of his trance and turning just enough to grab Julian’s face between his fingers. “Is someone feeling lonely?”

Julian winks at him. “You offering? You’ve always had the softest hands.”

“Try me again and I’ll shove those soft hands down your throat,” Nathan deadpans.

Some things never change.

My gaze darts between them. “You two done?”

Julian smirks at me before he leans back and puckers his lips. “Don’t feel left out, Wesley. You can join.”

I press my fingers into my forehead. “Fucking hell. That’ll give me nightmares.”

He rolls his head back and laughs before downing his beer.

“You should try it sometime,” Nathan suggests…to Julian, not me, thank fuck.

Julian scoffs. “What? Women? I try women all the time. They’re great.”

“Onewoman,” Nathan corrects.

I raise a brow. “He’ll need to find one to put up with him first.”

The truth is, I don’t think Julian is opposed to settling down. Not really. He just won’t admit it. Not out loud. Not even to us. He had a rough upbringing like the rest of us, but his left scars that run deeper. It turned something sharp and dark in him that he keeps buried under charm and jokes. Hell, there are parts of him he doesn’t even let me or Nathan see. Letting a woman see them? Yeah, that would mess him up.

I lean back in my chair, eyes finding Lena again. She’s spinning in bare feet, laughing so hard her shoulders shake.

And what rises in my chest isn’t just attraction. It’s relief.

It’s that impossible, dangerous thing I haven’t felt in years.

Lightness.

But when it leaves—when the moment dips—it drags something else behind it.

Guilt.

Guilt for smiling on a night Amber should be here.

Mike should be dealing cards. Amber should be dancing with Lena, holding Rosie on her hip. They should’ve had this night.

I stare into the last inch of my drink, then down it in one go.

It doesn’t help.

None of it does.

Julian says something, but I miss it.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” I say, pushing back from the table before anyone can ask. My heart is pounding, and sweat is breaking out across the nape of my neck, the way it always does when I’m dragged under.