Page 9 of Catcher

I tell myself to keep my eyes on anything but her, but it doesn’t stick. My gaze strays straight to her anyway.

She’s tucked close to London and Promise, head tilted, eyes lit with something shy but warm. The kind of warmth that doesn’t belong anywhere near me. She sips from her glass. Her hair tumbles in soft curls around her face, and for half a second, I let myself imagine what it’d feel like to bury my hands in it.

I down another swallow of whiskey, hard enough to scorch that thought to ash.

“Catcher, you in on this hand?” Nova’s voice cuts through, sharp and amused.

I grunt, toss in some cash, not even looking at my cards because it doesn’t matter.

The hand plays out, more banter flying, but beneath the humor, conversation shifts.

Riggs’ voice lowers. “Any word on those assholes from the other night?”

The laughter dims a little, cards pausing midair.

Nova shakes his head. “Nothin’. Not a single sighting since.”

“Probably just passing through,” Wick offers.

“Could be.” Riggs takes a slow pull from his beer. “Doesn’t hurt to keep an eye out for the bastards. Just in case they wanna stir up more shit.”

I crack my knuckles. “They’ll regret it,” I declare, my voice low.

A beat of silence follows, only hanging in the air between us for a moment.

The game rolls on, the mood gradually lifting again as the dares pile higher. Kiwi ends up wearing a tiara someone dug out of God knows where, along with his pink boa. Nova gets roped into doing push-ups with Fender sitting on his back. Everest loses one round and has to wash all our bikes tomorrow while wearing nothing but his cut and the shortest cut-off shorts I’ve ever seen.

I play, drink, and laugh when I’m supposed to, but through it all, my eyes keep drifting. My thoughts keep circling back to her.

Ruby.

Her shy smile. The way she hides behind her glass. She’s nothing like the women I’ve known. And yet the pull is there, clawing deeper no matter how much whiskey I drown it with.

It’s unwanted, unwelcome, and unstoppable.

The cards keep flying, and whiskey keeps pouring. Everest folds early when he sees shit cards. Riggs stays in to drive the bet higher, unreadable as always. Kiwi tries to bluff his way through, but Nova calls him out, slamming down a full house that wipes him clean.

The mood is high and infectious. I feel it, too, that deep pulse of family that runs through nights comparable to this. For a moment, I let it settle in, let myself remember why I bleed for this brotherhood.

Then my eyes drift again.

Ruby’s cheeks are flushed from drink and laughter. She covers her mouth when she laughs, trying not to draw attention, but it only makes her stand out more. She is innocent, sweet, and out of place, yet it’s fitting, as if she were meant to be here all along.

And I feel it again.

That pull.

“Hey, brother,” Kiwi says, dragging my gaze back. His grin is sharp. “You plan on starin’ holes through the poor girl all night?”

The table chuckles, low but not mean.

My jaw tightens. I don’t respond and take a slow swallow of whiskey, letting it burn.

Nova pours himself a shot of whiskey. “Nothin’ to be ashamed of, brother. We’ve all been there.”

Silence stretches for a beat. I keep my face blank, giving them nothing. I know they don’t mean any harm, but nevertheless, being under the microscope fucking bothers me. Luckily, my brothers let it go. That’s the thing about these men, they know when to push and when to shut the fuck up.

Riggs breaks the tension, tossing in his chips. “All right. Next hand, the loser is cleaning the bathrooms in the morning. Full detail.”