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It wasn’t anything she said or even did, it just… happened. Something unfurled inside me, something I didn’t even know I carried around.
“Are you going to book her again?” Sawyer finally asks, breaking the quiet.
Mickey chuckles darkly, the sound bitter as January frost. “What do you think? Just look at him, he’s already halfway to obsessed.”
I shoot him a glare, but there’s no heat behind it. The question Sawyer asked hangs in the air, taunting me with the possibility of seeing Abby again, of unraveling the mystery she presents.
“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” I say, standing to pour another drink.
The scent of alcohol and leather mingles in the air of my living room where we sprawl out like casualties of war. Sawyer’s checking his phone every five minutes, like he’s afraid of missing something.
“What’s Lucia up to tonight?” I ask Sawyer, needing to shift away from last night, and knowing she’s the reason he’s glued to his device.
He stretches his legs out. “She’s with Gail. She wanted to show her our new house and talk her into joining the social media business,” he says before taking a swig of his drink.
“So you’ve left them alone to plan world domination?” Mickey asks, as he pushes himself up on the couch.
“Something like that,” Sawyer chuckles, his gaze soft as it is every time he talks about his wife. “Gail said yes, and they’ve already settled on a name. Lucia had her mind set on partnering with Gail from the start, and as always, my wife gets what she wants.”
I bark out a laugh. That’s a fucking understatement if I ever heard one. Lucia managed to get Sawyer down the aisle, even after he’d sworn that was the one thing he’d never do. So, yeah, I don’t think her friend stands a chance.
“Smart women,” I comment, the image of Gail’s light brown hair and those piercing blue eyes flickering into my mind’s eye.
“Tell me about it,” Mickey chimes in, his drunken smirk spreading wide, less sarcastic and more genuine now. “I’m still bummed that Gail shut us down and didn’t come home with us after O’Jackie’s a few weeks ago. She’s got this sexy, innocent look that’s just… damn.”
I nod in agreement, remembering all too well how easily Gail laughed at our jokes, how her intelligence shone through every word, and how she moved with an unassuming grace that made you want to watch her—and not just for the curve of her hips or swell of her tits.
“Easy there, boys,” Sawyer warns, his tone light but edged with steel. “Gail’s off-limits for you two. She’s like a sister to Lucia, so don’t include her in your games.”
“Hey, we’re just appreciating the view,” Mickey defends, raising his hands, his silver eyes glinting with mischief.
Sawyer’s phone buzzes and I’m close enough to see a text from Lucia herself flashing on the screen.
“Looks like she and Gail have been busy,” he says. “You’re looking at the husband of a future social media mogul.” He beams with pride, typing a response.
I huff. “Maybe they’ll teach us a thing or two about going viral. Lord knows my socials are just shots of the rink and—” Sawyer interrupts me by lightly punching my shoulder.
“You don’t even manage your own socials, dickhead. But I’m sure I could convince my wife to give you a discount if you want one of her courses.”
Mickey leans back, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead as if to physically push away the memory of Simone’s betrayal. “Can you guys please stop talking about plans and let me focus on how fucking terrible today is?”
“Look at you, man,” Sawyer says, his voice low and tinged with frustration. “What’s the endgame here? Drowning in booze every January first?”
Mickey scoffs, a bitter laugh escaping him. “It’s not just booze, it’s a memory eraser, and I’ll take what I can get.”
“Memory eraser?” I interject, trying to steer the conversation away from the edge. “Is that what we’re calling whiskey now?”
“Fuck off, Soren,” Mickey grumbles, but there’s no heat in it. Just exhaustion.
I contemplate following his wishes, leaving him to stew alone in his misery. But I quickly decide against it. In all the years I’ve known him, I haven’t let him wallow alone, and I’m not about to begin now. He does the same for me on the anniversary of my twin’s death. Fair is fair.
“Are you guys ever gonna stop paying for pussy?” Sawyer leans forward, elbows on his knees, confronting us head-on. “You know you don’t need to, right? You’re Soren ‘The Wall’ Taylor and Mickey ‘The Missile’ Davis. Women throw themselves at you.”
“Sometimes it’s not about the chase, Sawyer,” I counter, feeling the burn of my own defenses rising. “It’s simpler this way.”
“Simple?” He snorts. “Since when do either of you do simple?”
“Since complicated left me bleeding and broken,” Mickey fires back, the words laced with venom and old wounds.
