Page 43

JD

T here were three things I was sure of in this moment:

One—Jackson had just inhaled a triple scoop sundae like it was a speed-eating contest.

Two—Evie was wearing that red tank top on purpose.

Three—Skye was going to either kiss me or kill me by the end of the night.

The tension crackled like live wires across the patio of the creamery. Bonfires couldn’t hold a candle to the heat in Skye’s eyes when she walked out of that bathroom, shoulders squared like a damn warrior.

And maybe I deserved the fire aimed at me.

But hell… it felt good.

Evie leaned in a little closer on the bench beside me, her laugh soft and low as she wiped a smudge of ice cream from my jaw with her napkin. It wasn’t lost on me. Not on Skye either, I’d bet.

“You’ve got sprinkles on your face,” Evie teased, shooting me a wink that had landed a hundred men before me flat on their backs. “Want me to lick it off? ”

I huffed a laugh, leaning back just a touch. Not enough to be rude. But enough.

“That’s alright,” I said, glancing at my son, who was now busy trying to balance a spoon on his nose. “I think my son’s doing enough entertaining for all of us.”

Evie’s smile flickered. She was gorgeous. That wasn’t the issue. Tan legs crossed, biker boots laced tight, dark hair spilling down her back like a storm. She was the kind of woman who screamed trouble and tasted like tequila. There was no baggage with her. No messy past. No heartbreak.

Just sex. Fast rides. And peace.

But peace wasn’t what I’d ever known with Skye.

Peace wasn’t what made my blood run like fire and my soul scream mine .

Skye sat across the patio, not saying much, her lips tight, arms crossed like a fortress. Her sunglasses hid her eyes, but I could still feel them on me. Watching. Measuring. Bleeding.

She had every right to hate this. To hate me .

But I wasn’t trying to hurt her.

Okay. Maybe I was.

Just a little.

Because I needed her to remember what it felt like. To see what it looked like when someone else wanted what was once hers. To wonder what if.

She did the walking away, not me.

I bent down and ruffled Jackson’s hair. “You doing okay, bud?”

He nodded, the spoon now sticking to his nose. “Uncle Cal says I get to ride Blackie again tomorrow!”

“That so?”

“Yep. But Mama says I can’t gallop yet.”

“She’s probably right. ”

He grinned. And God—he had her smile. It killed me in the chest every damn time.

The patio buzzed with laughter and banter from the MC. Regan and Amber were corralling napkins like soldiers. Colton was joking about getting Jackson a tattoo. And Edge? He was pretending not to eavesdrop from the corner while keeping one hand on his wife’s ass.

Then there was Skye. Still. Silent. Simmering.

She stood up finally, slow and deliberate, and walked over. The sundress she wore danced around her knees in the breeze, that fiery auburn hair catching light like wildfire.

“Hey,” she said, her voice too calm.

“Hey,” I replied, bracing.

“I think I’m gonna head back. Jackson’s got ranch chores tomorrow, and it’s late.”

I looked at her. Really looked. Her lips were soft and pink, bitten raw from nerves. Her arms trembled slightly. And I hated that I was the cause of it.

“You want me to ride back with you?”

Her jaw twitched. “You’re busy.”

I caught her wrist gently before she could walk away. “Skye?—”

She leaned in, just an inch from my face, and whispered, “You want her to see I still want you? Mission accomplished.”

And then she was gone, her heels clicking off the patio like gunshots in my brain.

Evie watched her walk off and raised a brow. “She yours?”

“Depends on the day,” I muttered.

But she always would be.

That was the problem.

Skye walked off like she hadn’t just slayed me with a whisper. Like her words hadn’t burned straight through the leather of my kutte and into my fucking ribs.

“You want her to see I still want you? Mission accomplished.”

Yeah. Mission accomplished.

She didn’t even turn around.

Evie shifted beside me, licking a smear of chocolate from her spoon, pretending like she hadn’t just witnessed a whole emotional bloodbath unfold across a patio full of bikers and birthday balloons.

“You gonna chase after her?”

I didn’t answer.

She sighed and stood, brushing her hands over her tight jeans. “Will you walk me to my car?”

I hesitated just long enough to make it a choice—and then stood. “Yeah. Sure.”

The gravel crunched under our boots as we walked toward the side lot, past rows of pickups and motorcycles, the late desert breeze brushing cool against my neck.

“She’s got you wound up like a clock,” Evie said. “Must be nice.”

I cut a glance her way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Evie stopped beside her car, crossing her arms, one hip popped. “I just mean... she runs, disappears, takes your kid with her, and still gets to come back and play the victim. Gets to climb back inside your head like she never left.”

My jaw ticked. “It’s not that simple.”

Evie stepped in closer, voice low. “No, JD. It’s not. You and me? We never had a real shot. Not because we didn’t click. But because she’s been haunting you like a goddamn ghost since day one.”

She laid a hand gently on my chest. “But after that last phone call? After you told me the truth? I asked myself—why does Skye get all your second chances... and not me?”

I stared at her, torn straight down the middle.

Evie leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my jaw—lingering, almost pleading.

“I’m not her. I never will be,” she whispered. “But I’m here. And I’m not broken. I don’t run. I don’t lie. I’d make a damn good woman for you and a damn good stepmom for your boy.”

I didn’t breathe.

She stepped back. “Think about it. When she burns you again—and we both know she will—I’ll still be here.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it again.

Then finally—“I’m trying... for Jackson’s sake. To see if maybe Skye and I can rebuild something.”

Evie’s eyes flickered, pain passing like a cloud across the sun. But she didn’t cry. Didn’t yell.

She just nodded. “Then I hope it works out. I do.”

She unlocked her car, slid inside, and shut the door with a soft finality. Her engine started. Headlights flared. And then she was gone.

I stood there in the dark gravel lot, jaw clenched, heart shredded, wondering what the hell I was doing.

Skye didn’t see me leave with Evie. Didn’t know I came back alone.

Let her wonder.

Let her feel it.

My phone lit up at 12:13 a.m.

Skye .

My gut twisted, thumb answering before my brain caught up. “What’s wrong? Is he okay?”

Silence for a second. Then her voice—soft, trembling.

“He’s fine.”

I sank back against the headboard, hand dragging down my face. I let the air out of my lungs. “Dammit, Skye. You scared the hell out of me.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know if you’d answer otherwise.”

I closed my eyes, biting down the sharp reply that almost slipped out. She wasn’t wrong. Lately, I’d made sure we only talked when I couldn’t avoid it. With Jackson around. With other people nearby.

Never like this.

Never just the two of us.

“Why’d you call?” I asked, voice rougher than I meant.

She didn’t answer right away.

Then, barely above a whisper, she said, “I need you to stop pushing me away, JD.”

My heart stopped.

“This dance we’ve been doing? The polite smiles. The near misses. You making excuses every time I try to talk about us?” Her voice cracked. “We’re going in circles, and it’s killing me. I’m not calling to fight. I’m calling because I still love you.”

God.

I rubbed at the ache building in my chest. Every damn word tore into me.

“If you can’t forgive me today,” she said, “maybe you can tomorrow. Or next week. I don’t care how long it takes, JD. But I’m done pretending this thing between us doesn’t still exist. ”

I swallowed hard, staring at the ceiling like it held some kind of answer.

She kept going.

“I’m not asking for everything. Not yet. Just one night. One real chance. A date. Next weekend. You and me. No distractions. No club, no calls, no hiding behind our son like he’s a shield.”

“Skye—”

“I know I hurt you. And maybe you’re not ready to open that door again. But I’m standing on the other side of it. Waiting. Willing. Still yours, if you want me.”

She let out a breath.

“I had to say this out loud. Because I don’t want to look back and regret staying quiet while I still had something to fight for.”

My throat felt like it had been sandpapered raw.

Silence stretched between us, full of everything I didn’t know how to say.

She didn’t ask for an answer.

She didn’t beg.

She just let it hang.

And before I could find the words, she added, voice barely audible?—

“Goodnight, JD.”

Click.

She hung up.

And I just sat there, holding the phone like it weighed a hundred pounds, wondering why the hell it was easier to fight cartel soldiers than let the woman I still loved back into my heart.