I suck a breath through my teeth.

Close my eyes.

Exhale slowly.

It does nothing.

I'm still seeing red.

My veins are still buzzing.

What the fuck does Wes think he's doing touching Emma?

The office door slams shut behind me.

Emma sits on the desk. Folds her arms over her chest. Stares.

Her dark eyes fill with the hurt she's been wearing for days. "Well?" Her voice is low. Impatient.

Not that I'm any better.

My thoughts are a jumbled mess.

I need to get my shit together.

To make this up to her.

Justify dragging her from the fray.

I reach for something sensible to say. Find only platitudes. "We need to talk."

She scoffs. "That's rich."

"Em—"

"No. My friends call me Em. You do not call me Em."

Fuck, I need to cool it. I need a clear head for this conversation.

Slow inhale.

Steady exhale.

Oxygen flows through my veins. Competes with the anger.

Loses.

Her brow knits in frustration. "Let's talk, Hunter. Let's talk about how you're a fucking hypocrite."

Maybe.

I'm too far past logic to say.

None of that matters.

Protecting her is the only thing that matters.

"You can go fuck some blonde dolt, but I can't even flirt—"

"I didn't touch her."

"'Cause I cock blocked you."

"I told you. I didn't want to."

"Fuck you."

"You know what I was thinking the entire time I was there?"

"How you're an asshole."

"How much I'd rather be with you."

Her cheeks flame red. Her throat quivers. Her fingers slam the desk. "Fuck you."

"Em—"

"YOU DON'T GET TO CALL ME THAT."

"I'm not—"

"Yeah, you are. You chose to end this. You don't get to turn around and say you'd rather be with me."

She slides off the desk.

I move in front of the door to block her.

She tries to push past me.

I grab her wrist.

She pulls her hand back. Holds it to her chest. Stares like I'm the devil. "Happy birthday, Hunter. Save your talk for someone who gives a fuck."

She pushes past me.

Slams the door on her way out.

My heart begs me to follow her.

But I manage to find the one scrap of logic left in my brain.

I've hurt her too much.

Whatever happens, I'm not pouring salt in the wound.

The main room is buzzing with laughter and conversation, but the second I step out of the office, the mood changes.

Emma's angry exit is in the air.

Ryan shakes his head.

Leighton shoots me a worried glance.

Dean shrugs like he has no idea what's going on.

He and Wes are locked into some sort of who gives less of a fuck competition.

Fuck, the two of them together is either the best or worst thing that could happen.

They aren't the same—Dean tries so much harder to get a reaction, Wes tries so much harder to convince people he doesn't care about their reaction—but they're both devil may care attention whores.

Wes always made Blacklist Tattoo interesting.

Difficult.

But interesting.

And now he's here.

Fuck, that means a lot.

Even if he's flirting with Emma to piss me off.

Even if he's here to taunt me.

He's still here.

I nod a hey to my brother. Cross the room to him. Spot Griffin.

He's sitting on one of the benches in the lobby, his arm around a pretty redhead, his lips pressed into a baby, I can't wait to fuck you senseless smile.

His dark eyes flit around the room.

Catch mine.

He nods a hello.

There's so much in it.

In him being here.

That's all Griffin has to do. Show up and nod and I instantly get exactly what he's saying.

He whispers something to his date then plants a kiss on her lips.

It's not soft and sweet. It's a dirty, carnal I'm going to fuck you six ways from Sunday thing.

But there's still a connection between them.

He's always fucked around because he enjoys it.

He's always savored his experiences.

We've all been the benefactors of his generosity. Guy has a hell of a mouth. His replays are more evocative than any porn I've ever seen.

His date slips away with an I'll miss you smile.

He nods to the bench opposite his.

It shouldn't feel like such a big deal, him inviting me over, but it does. For a long time, I thought that was it. That none of my friends or family would ever choose to see me again.

Now, two of them are here.

This is good.

Shit with Emma is fucked.

But this is really fucking good.

I suck a breath through my teeth. Exhale slowly. There's no more anger coursing through my veins.

Only a lightness.

It's just as overwhelming.

No one told me that when I was getting sober.

No one explained that good would be as hard to handle as bad.

Griffin nods to Wes, who seamlessly extricates himself from his conversation with Dean and heads over.

We're right under the speaker.

It's blasting one of Emma's CDs.

That same one Chase loves.

It's bizarre.

But perfect too.

Griffin stands and offers me a hug.

I accept it.

Wes does that handshake hug thing.

"Thanks for coming." I don't know how to handle these interactions. Not sober. I suck a breath through my teeth. Exhale slowly. I need to stay present. To be honest. That's all I can offer.

It's one moment at a time.

I can handle one fucking moment.

Griffin nods. "You look good."

"I miss the eyeliner," Wes says.

"Sober," Griffin says.

Wes chuckles. "Fuck, dude, you aren't supposed to come out and say it."

"Are you?" Griffin's eyes flit to the half a dozen bottles lined up on the bar.

There's a lot, and some of my favorites too.

The comfortable numb is still appealing.

But I don't want to drink.

It's too obvious that will fuck shit up.

Maybe that isn't the world's best reason for staying sober.

But I'm getting there. "Three months now."

"Good." His dark eyes fill with relief. "You fucked shit up real bad, Hunter."

Wes nudges him. "You gotta say it like that?"

He nods.

Wes shakes his head. "Say fuck, Hunter… shit. How do you say that?" He shakes his head. "You did fuck shit up."

"Well aware," I say.

"Chase is too busy fapping over his righteous indignation to be here," Wes says.

I shoot him a look. Yeah, it hurts that my big brother wants nothing to do with me. But I get it. I'm the one who failed him, not the other way around.

"He's still pissed," Griffin says. "I am too."

"Jesus, Griff—"

"You think your unfazed bullshit is gonna help him?"

"What bullshit?"

"You're twenty-three, dude. We know you have feelings."

Wes scrunches his nose in distaste.

"Look at your brother. Tell him you love him."

Wes shakes his head never.

"I love you, Hunter." Griffin pats his chest. "I'm not afraid to say it."

"Why don't you two get married?" Wes mimes brushing these disgusting feelings from his shoulders.

"Love you too." Griffin blows him a kiss.

He ducks to dodge it. Stands. Wipes his brow with relief.

"Is marriage too much, too fast? Should you start with going to AA together?" Wes teases.

"If you want me there." Griffin nods.

"Ugh." Wes throws his hands in the air. "It wasn't an actual suggestion."

"It's a good idea." Griffin chuckles. "You're perceptive sometimes, Wes."

Wes cringes.

I try to keep my expression casual. It's a thing, Al-anon, meetings where people bring friends and family. Meetings where friends and family go alone. To figure out their shit. Or how they can help the people they love.

The fact he's offering…

Fuck, I'm not nearly as afraid of feelings as Wes is, but this is too mushy for me.

I nod. "Thanks."

"You gotta stop." Wes shakes his head. "I'm not here for this shit."

"Why are you afraid of intimacy?" Griffin teases.

"'Cause you're not a hot chick with fantastic tits." Wes chuckles. "That would be something—"

"You'd fuck me if I was a chick?" Griffin teases.

"Fuck no. You're too earnest and shit."

"See." Griffin turns to me. "You gotta keep an eye on him. Or he's gonna be numbing himself too."

"I know," I say.

Wes feigns offense. "I'm right here."

"Fucking shit up. As usual." Griffin laughs. He reaches over and musses Wes's hair.

Wes slaps his hands away. Actually frowns as he's fixing it. "Don't fuck with the hair."

"'Cause all the babes here are checking you out?" Griffin asks.

"Fuck yeah." Wes nods to Leighton then to Iris. "I see them looking."

"They're taken," Griffin says.

"Doesn't mean they're dead. You never look when you have someone?" Wes asks.

Griffin nods true.

This is fun. Silly.

I hate to ruin the mood.

But I gotta ask. "How is Blacklist?"

Griffin frowns.

Wes shrugs. "Got some troubles, but we'll figure it out."

"It's not your problem, Hunter," Griffin says.

"You guys closing?" I ask.

"Could go that way." Frustration fills Griffin's dark eyes. It spreads over his face. "But, seriously, Hunter. You've got enough shit on your plate. Don't worry—"

"We could hire you," I say.

Surprise spreads over Wes's expression.

And Griffin's.

They share a look.

It's not good.

Fuck, if Wes is readable, it must be bad.

"Hunt…" Griffin's eyes turn down. "I wish I could."

"Yeah." I know where he's going with this, but I let him finish anyway.

"Inked Hearts is a fucking institution. But I promised Chase I'd stick with him. And—"

"He just has to stop fucking himself over this." Wes rolls his eyes. "Fucking guy has his head so far up his ass."

"He made his feelings clear," I say.

"Asshole needs to get over himself." Wes shakes his head. "I didn't make any fucking promise. If you're offering me a gig, I'm here. That Emma chick was hot. All the other women who work here the same?"

Is he fucking with me?

I can't tell.

But then it's Wes.

Of course he's fucking with me.

"Yeah. Dean's girl is too," I say. "At least, I think she's Dean's girl. I'm not in the loop."

"Dean has a girl?" Wes shakes his head. "Fuck. Times change."

"Yeah." Griffin chuckles, but that frustration is still there, in his eyes. "They really fucking do."