Page 113 of Burning Ember

Is this Edge?

He’s handsome. Striking even. However, there’s a hardness to him. Lining his forehead are three prominent wrinkles, and below those are furrowed brows shadowing his deep-set eyes. Where Dozer’s smile is natural and easy, the new guy’s is fixed on his face as if he’s not used to using the muscles it takes to do so.

He’s maybe two inches shorter than Dozer. And where Dozer fills out every inch of space in his T-shirt and jeans, and then some; this man’s clothing hangs off him. Even his cheeks appear gaunt.

His dark, chestnut hair is an inch long all over and lies every which way, and he has a mustache and goatee that appear more red than brown in the sunlight.

He concedes a hug to the people who approach him. But he studies them with a critical eye before embracing them. If he weren’t facing me, I would have missed how mid-hug, his smile turns into a grimace for a split second before he forces it back over his face, as if it never slipped in the first place.

I can’t help but think about what tonight would have been like if my plans for the party hadn’t changed. I would have had to sleep with this stranger who looks like he doesn’t trust a soul. I would have been his prize for the night. A vessel for him to find whatever kind of release he needed.

Whenever Warner took me against my will, it made me feel so dead and dirty that I sought to escape. It always stripped me bare. This would have been the same.

I’m taken off guard when the backdoor opens. As zoned out as I was, I didn’t see Dozer make his way to the back of the clubhouse. When I look up and see him dominating the doorway my unease comes back full force.

He’s surprised but also happy to see me. “Hey. They said you were here, but I wasn’t sure where,” he says.

My eyes swing from him to the window and my gaze locks with Bethany’s. She’s looking at what can only be Dozer’s back. Sadness flashes over her features. A second passes before her eyes meet mine. She waves at me, hikes her thumb over her shoulder and though I can read her lips from here, I understand what she says. “I’m leaving.”

Of course she is.

She’s been here fifteen minutes and she’s already been scolded by Nick. Now the man she wants, but won’t let herself have, is here next to me, her new friend, because for two weeks I’ve let Dozer think there is a possibility of an us. Something I need to rectify now.

I turn to Dozer and force myself to give him a weak smile. Upon seeing my expression, his grin slowly fades.

“He sent you to stay with Bethany, didn’t he?” His tone is curt. His muscles bulge, stretching the cotton of his navy T-shirt. I open my mouth to tell him the truth. It wouldn’t have mattered where Mav sent me.

He barrels toward me and grabs my arms. “Before you say anything, you need to hear my side of it. Give me that much before you cut me out.”

It’s cowardly of me, but I don’t have the heart to tell him I made up my mind about him the first day we met. No, first, I’ll give him the opportunity to say what he needs to say, and then I’ll tell him the truth.

“Okay.”

“Come on. Let’s talk somewhere private.”

When we lose hope, we lose faith, and walking away seems like the only answer.

EMBER

Dozer kicks his door closed. I back up so I’m in the middle of the room, effectively putting a couple feet of distance between us. But he eliminates most of it as he strides toward me with a fierce expression.

I put my hand up, and unlike Mav, he stops. “Listen, Dozer. I like you, but—”

“Goddamn him!” He rakes his hand through his hair making it spike up in disarray. Then he glares at me. “You like me, but what? Now that you’re friends with Bethany, we can’t start somethin’? Before you make that call you need to know that her and me”—his hand slices through the air—“will never be anything. Never.”

“Dozer . . .”The torment on his face has me saying, “There’s something there, and I don’t want to get in the middle of whatever it is.”

“We don’t have anything. Yeah, she was my world once and wanted her to be again, but she doesn’t give a shit about me anymore.”

“That’s not true. For three days, I’ve watched her fight like hell not to think about you, not talk about you. She can’t do it. Even her knowing what little she knows about us makes her jealous.”

He huffs. “That doesn’t mean shit.”

“To a woman it means a lot.”

“Well it doesn’t mean enough.” He exhales and goes to the bed. After sitting on the edge of the mattress, he runs his hands over his face in frustration. “What did she tell you about us?”

I shrug. “Not much. Only a little and that was only because she was drunk.”