“I need to get to work, too. I’ll be late.” And I’ve lost track of time.

“Why are you working two extra jobs? Rafe’s been asking me that. He covers your rent, so you can focus on your training. I know you need a job for your daily expenses, but, man, you’re wearing yourself out.”

“I need the money.”

“And I need you focused on your training. You’re almost there.” He rubs one shaved side of his head. “What the hell do you need more money for? Gonna buy yourself a limo and ride into the sunset?”

I laugh. Can’t help it, because that’s just… “I don’t want to go anywhere. Hell, this is the first stability I’ve had in my life.” And doesn’t that suck donkey balls? “But I figured I’d be ready for when you kick me out.”

I curse inwardly when the words leave my mouth. What’s wrong with my self-control today? Or rather, my absolute fucking lack of it.

“What makes you think I’ll kick you out?”

“Man, everyone does, sooner or later. Nothing this good ever lasts, and you’ll soon change your mind.”

Like Amber did.

“The hell, J.”

“Look,” I say, “I live on borrowed time. I know it, all right? Like I’m renting a room in someone else’s life. The life of someone more deserving than me. I’m a fraud. Fucked up to hell and back. People get tired of my shit eventually and leave.”

I’m dead serious, and when Zane starts to laugh, it’s like a bucketful of cold water being thrown down my back.

Motherfucking hell.

“What’s so funny?” I mutter. “You asked.”

I jerk when he slaps my back, still laughing. What’s up with all the back slapping?

“Fucker,” he says when he can breathe again, “you’re fucking nuts, you know that?” He slaps me again, then grabs my shoulder, as if guessing I’m one second from shooting to my feet and leaving. “You are special. Believe it. And even if you weren’t, that wouldn’t matter anymore, okay? Because now you are family, and even if you were the stupidest, laziest fuck on Earth—which you’re not, thank God—we still wouldn’t give you up.”

I’m sure I’m gaping at him like a fish, and this time when he slaps my back, I barely feel it. My chest is so tight I wrap an arm around it.

“You serious?” Because I don’t believe he is.

“Fucker, I’ve never been more serious in my life. Invest your money in people. Spend it on people you care for. Buy your girl gifts, flowers, teddy bears, whatever. But never think we’ll throw you out.”

I say nothing. I guess I’m still in shock.

“I’m about to offer you a job, so finish your training already, okay? You’re fucking ready.” Zane stands up, and I’m still sitting, trying to absorb what he said. “And as for Amber… It’s up to you to change your reputation. Hear what I’m saying? Be who you want to be, J, and everyone else will see it, sooner or later.”

***

I won’t give up.

The thought buzzes in my head as the days pass with no word from Amber. I clean the tattoo shop, I practice my art on a new customer, and Zane seems pleased with my work. He tries to talk to me again, but I can’t deal with that shit right now.

I need Amber to talk to me, need to clear this up, no matter what happens afterward. No matter if she decides she’s had enough of me and walks away anyway.

Who would blame her? Not me.

But goddammit, it hurts. Never thought it could hurt so much. You’d think a guy who had his world come crashing around his ears so many times would feel nothing.

Instead, I feel too much. Since Zane and Rafe brought me here, since I got a place to live and an art to learn, the numbness I’d perfected shattered, and since I met her…

Yeah, since I met her, I can’t stop the smile spreading on my face at the thought of seeing her, or the knife twisting in my chest at the thought I’ll never be with her again.

So I deal with it the only way I know how—killing myself working my two jobs, training at the gym, taking over the others’ shifts to clean the shop. Making jokes, teasing, pretending nothing’s wrong.

Nothing’s fucking wrong. The world sucks. That’s the way it is. You know it, so take it like a man.

Right.

Not that I didn’t try talking to the guys at first. Monday after the wedding, down at Damage Control, when they showed up giving me the stink-eye. I gave them my version of the events.

They didn’t seem impressed.

In fact, Micah looked like he wanted to punch the living daylights out of me and held himself back with difficulty. When I tried explaining what went down, he called me a fucking douchebag and stalked away. He’s been avoiding me ever since. Fuck knows what Ev told him happened.

Shane’s glare could cut through metal. Now that I know he wants Cassie it makes sense. Doesn’t make it any easier, though.

And what can I tell him? Hey, sorry man, the girl you want sexually assaulted me because she has a crush on me instead of you?

Sure. That’d go down great.

As for Dylan, who comes by sometimes, and Rafe, they pretend I don’t exist. Unlike Zane, they haven’t tried talking to me.

Which is cool with me.

No, that’s a lie, it’s not. But who the hell cares? Even Seth who said he believed me isn’t defending me.

Screw them. I’ll be okay. Always landing back on my feet. Don’t trust, Helen used to say. Don’t open up. All they want is an opening to stick a hurt into you.

Helen…

I keep going through the motions, day after day, night after fucking night, thinking of Amber.

Until one day I see her.

***

She’s standing at the bus stop not far from Damage Control, dressed in a denim skirt and a white top that hugs her curves. Her dark hair is twisted into a messy bun, secured with a white-beaded stick.

Christ, I missed her. She’s never looked more beautiful.

My mouth goes dry. “Embers?”

She jumps, her blue eyes going round. “Jesse.”

Not JJ.

“I’ve been calling you and texting you.” I bite back the bitterness and paste on a smile. “How have you been?”

“I…” She glances at the street, as if hoping the bus will arrive soon and save her from this conversation. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

I clench my jaw. My hands are balled into fists and shaking. “Embers, about what happened at the wedding reception—”

“I said I don’t want to talk.” She takes a step away from me. Scared of me, dammit.

“She came on to me, Embers. I tried pushing her away.”

“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me Embers. It’s not my name.”

Like a physical blow, her words knock the air out of my lungs. “Don’t do this, Em— Amber.” I wince. It doesn’t feel right, calling her anything but Embers.

“When you were late picking me up that night…” She isn’t looking at me. Her hand is white-knuckled on the handle of her purse. “Were you with another girl? With Cassie?”

The fuck? “No, I wasn’t. You want the truth? I went to testify against the guy who cut me up all those years ago. The one I told you about.”

Her eyes skip to my tattooed arm, then back to the street. “Why would you do that after all this time?”

“Because he’s been beating my friends up.” And because you gave me strength. “It’s a turf war, or drug war. I don’t know, and I don’t care. I only want him behind fucking bars.”

She flinches, and I sigh, not sure what to do.

“I wouldn’t cheat on you. I don’t want Cassie.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “Hell, I don’t want any other girl but you. Don’t you get it?”

There. My fucking heart laid out on the chopping board. Fuck caution. Fuck not opening up.

“Get it? Get what?” she whispers, and her eyes look damp. “Come on, Jesse, what are the chances of Cassie falling on your mouth all on her own? Tell me.”

Her lips tremble, and I feel like an asshole, even if this isn’t my fault.

“She’s been trying to get me to sleep with her for a while. She came on to me. And she did it on purpose.”