Page 78 of Sinner’s Game

Ronan closed his eyes, his hands fisting on the edge of the table as he fought the urge to tumble the entire thing over and send the drinks and snacks scattering across the floor. Instead, he drew a breath, lifted his head, and looked his friend in the eye. “That was supposed to be between me and Brandy.”

“I know. She knows, too. And I understand why you’ve never told me, although I wish you had. It probably would’ve helped to talk about it.”

Ronan shook his head. “All it does is make it hurt more.”

“Is that what hurts?” Devlin asked. “Is it the loss of Michelle, your first love? Or is it the fact that you can’t get past it and see what you have right in front of you?”

“Don’t start with me.”

“I’m not starting anything. I’m just asking questions. Because it seems to me that you’ve been picking at a wound for years, not letting it heal.”

“You know all of that from what you’ve learned in the last ten minutes?”

“It’s been closer to twenty-four hours, actually, but let’s not bother with specifics.”

“Damn it. I don’t want to talk about this. And honestly, I can’t believe Brandy talked about it either.”

“Yeah. I’m sure she told Ellie so that she could get back at you for being such a distant motherfucker. What a bitch.”

“Don’t you dare call her—” Ronan realized he’d gotten to his feet. He sat back down. “Fuck.”

“Don’t be an ass, buddy. She told El because her heart’s broken and she needed to talk to somebody. And guess what? You weren’t there.”

“She’s the one who walked,” Ronan said, irritated when Devlin laughed.

“You can tell yourself that story, but that doesn’t make it true.”

“Fuck.” Ronan’s heart twisted, and he lifted his glass. It was empty, but he took a sip anyway, as if that would manufacture a few dregs and he could get lost in the haze of alcohol once again.

He slammed the glass down—it was futile—then snatched the new drink off the waiter’s tray as he brought it over. Devlin watched as he tossed it back, ignoring his own drink. He pushed his glass toward Ronan. “Need another? Need to be just a little more numb?”

“You’re a goddamn asshole,” Ronan said.

“I’ve been called worse. Sometimes by you.”

At that, Ronan had to fight a laugh. He didn’t want to laugh. He didn’t want anything to chip away at the emptiness in his heart. Sometimes it was better to just be alone. Friends. Love. All it did was get messy. And Devlin just sitting there looking so smug in the life that he'd built. A marriage to a woman he loved. Eventually children. And yet he must know that it could all be ripped away. As strong as Ellie was, someone could take her. And Devlin couldn’t protect her, not every minute of every day.

And if there were children…

Oh, God, how would he live with the trauma if something happened to one of them?

He looked down, feeling the tears sting his eyes. “Would you please just leave?” He didn’t look at his friend. He couldn’t. If he looked, he’d lose it.

“Why are you still punishing yourself?” The words were soft but earnest. It wasn’t a real question. It was more of a statement. Devlin was stating the obvious, telling Ronan that he was being a fool. That he had to move forward. But it wasn’t Ronan who was the fool. It was Devlin. Because Devlin could lose everything, and then where would he be?

This way was better, Ronan thought. This way, he had nothing to lose.

“If you’re not going to go, I will. I made a reservation at Masque.”

Devlin leaned back, studying him. “Oh?”

It was the truth, but it was also a lie. Ronan had made a reservation at the sex club, true. He’d booked a private room and asked the staff to find him two women who would be willing to spend the full night with him. A wild night. The kind of night that could make him forget. Lost in pain and pleasure, sensory overload to fry his mind. To substitute for love and trust and affection. He wanted that. He wanted to get back to the place where that was enough.

But goddamn it, it wouldn’t be. And he didn’t know what the hell to do. He’d wanted to blame Brandy for walking. They had been doing just fine, enjoying each other. And then she had to go and end it.

Prick, he’d thought. He knew perfectly well why she’d ended it, and running to Masque wasn’t the solution.

But if not, how did he move forward now? He didn’t know, but he’d called back and canceled the reservation.