Page 7 of Catcher

It started early with the grills smoking out back, some of the women hauling in pans of food, the air thick with the scent of barbecue and spice, and music already blaring from the sound system. The clubhouse is precisely what it’s supposed to be right now—a pressure valve releasing.

No business.

No runs.

No trouble.

Just family.

The bass rattles the floorboards, making the beer bottles on the bar jump. Laughter rings out from one corner where Tequila and Jo are mixing margaritas in a blender. The sound of a cue ball cracking echoes from the pool table as Wick and Kiwi play a game, followed by groans and victory whoops as one of them sinks a ball.

Everyone is loose tonight. Unwinding. Exactly what we all need after a long-ass week.

I should feel at ease, but, as always, something inside has been wound too tight for too long.

Whiskey helps. Always does. I stand near the end of the bar, closest to the door, posted where I can see everything, downing another glass of whiskey until the burn in my throat starts to numb me out.

And that’s when I see her.

Ruby.

She slips in quietly behind London, as if she’s afraid she doesn’t belong. I can see the hesitation being here in the way she hovers near the entry, shoulders drawn, clutching her purse as if it might shield her. She’s small. Five-two, maybe. Her blonde curls bounce with every nervous step, catching the light so they look spun from gold. Then there are her big blue eyes.

I shouldn’t notice her or register the way her pink lips part when she takes in the room’s chaos as she tucks her hair behind her ear as if she wants to disappear. And I sure as fuck shouldn’t feel the way my heartbeat stumbles at the sight.

But I do.

And I hate myself for it.

I hold out my hand when they approach the bar, palm open, voice flat. “Keys.”

Ruby’s brows knit, confusion lighting her face. “What? Why?”

Before I can explain, London glides over. “Because tonight we’re all letting our hair down. That includes you too. Which means you’re not driving anywhere. We’ve already got a room ready for you.”

Ruby blinks, caught off guard. “A room?”

London laughs softly. “You’re stuck with us.” Her eyes dance between Ruby and me.

I don’t move or soften my stare, just wait silently. Ruby glances at London, then back at me, nerves flickering in her big blue eyes.

Her hand slips into her bag, fingers fumbling with something, until she finally pulls out her keys. She drops them into my palm, and in that split second, her skin brushes mine. It’s nothing, barely a touch, but it feels similar to a fucking live wire.

A jolt sparks up my arm, slamming into my chest, then sliding lower until my gut twists tight. Heat rushes under my skin before I can shut it down.

What. The. Fuck?

My hand closes around the keys, my jaw locking tight. I shouldn’t feel that from her. Not from anyone. One whisper of skin shouldn’t undo me, not after everything I buried six feet deep, and when every part of me still belongs to a ghost.

She mutters a quick, “Thanks,” then hurries off, with London guiding her toward Promise, Sadie, and Tequila, who are waving her over, her petite frame vanishing into their circle.

I watch her.

For too long.

Long enough to feel a pull gnawing at my insides.

I drop her keys into a bowl, along with the others, then reach for the nearby whiskey bottle, fill my glass halfway, and toss it back. The burn is sharp and punishing. I pour another, drowning my reaction to Ruby before it claws any deeper.