Page 70 of Bourbon Truths
“He’s finding justice for you,” Goldie spat while slapping her hands together, as if she’d just told the best secret she’s ever heard.
Irritation seethed through me.
“Why can’t you stay the fuck out of my business, Jett? I told you, I don’t care about my boxing career. I don’t care what Jono did. It’s over and done with. Let’s move the fuck on.”
“If that’s the case, then you need to move the fuck on from everything,” Jett countered, giving me a pointed stare.
Taking a deep breath, I shook my head. “You know that’s something I can’t move on from.”
“There’s something else?” Goldie asked while looking between the both of us. “Is this the reason why you are so distant with Lyla?”
Throwing her a bone, I nodded. “Goldie, I want you to know I honor the friendship you’ve given me, but this is the one thing I can’t talk about with you, not because I don’t want to but just because I can’t. I’m not a good guy.”
“It was one night,” Jett cut in. “One drunken mistake, and it wasn’t your fault.”
Lost in the thoughts of that evening, I said, “I lost control.” I shook my head in disappointment. “I let him provoke me.”
“Who?” Goldie asked, leaning forward.
“Shit,” I muttered, having temporarily forgotten Goldie was there. “Goldie, can you please just accept my apology and not ask me again? I promise to make a better effort to be a friend when I’m around you guys, but I need you to not dig around in my past. Can you please do that? I just want to move forward.”
It was a lie, but she didn’t need to know that.
She took a moment to process what I was asking of her, but after some deep thought, she agreed and stood up. She walked right up to me and wrapped her arms around my waist. Behind her, Jett tensed from the intimate contact but then nodded at me as if granting me his blessing. I wrapped my arms around my best friend’s girl and, for a brief moment, reveled in the feel of her pressed against me. The distinctive aroma of vanilla and citrus floated into my nostrils as Goldie squeezed me tighter. Instinctively, I placed my cheek to the top of her head and squeezed her just as hard.
I’d once confessed my love for this woman. I’d once asked her why she’d chosen Jett. I’d once wished I was the one who got to hold her hand, but now, even though she stirred the slightest arousal inside of me, it was nothing compared to what Lyla did to me. Goldie had tilted my axis, but Lyla shook me to my fucking core.
“I will always be by your side, Kace, rooting for you and praying that one day, you’re able to find peace with whatever is eating you alive.”
“Thank you,” I replied, pulling away and walking to the door. “I’ve got to get out of here. I will see you guys around.”
Before they could say anything else, I left the house. Breathing in the musky air of New Orleans, I took a walk to clear my mind. Starting tomorrow, I needed to get back on track, beginning with my responsibilities at Justice.
* * *
My Past…
This wasn’twhere I wanted to be, waiting outside a restaurant for Goldie Bishop to arrive. Jett was adamant about making Goldie a Jett Girl, and I had no clue why.
Well, that wasn’t true. I knew she had the basic requirements to be considered. She’d lost her parents, their business, and their home to Hurricane Katrina. She was thousands of dollars in debt, working at a shady strip club named Kitten’s Castle, and living paycheck to paycheck, barely making ends meet. There were a lot of women like her in New Orleans. What I didn’t get was why Jett was so transfixed on helping her. She wasn’t even his type.
She was my type. Spunky, stubborn, and fucking fine.
After seeing her at Kitten’s Castle, she’d buried herself inside my skin, and I itched to see her once again, but on my own terms, terms where I could claim her as mine, not recruit her for another man.
I placed my foot against the pillar I was standing next to and rested my hands in my pockets. The hood that hid me from the outside world cushioned my place against the pole.
Routine in my life offered me little chance to think about anything outside my little world. I appreciated the monotony of my daily activities. The girls knew their roles. They worked seamlessly with each other, so I didn’t understand why Jett wanted to disturb that peace. It was rare enough to see four women get along with zero drama. Adding a fifth into the mix was only asking for trouble.
But I didn’t make the fucking decisions,—Jett did. That was why I found myself standing outside of a café waiting for Goldie to arrive.
Growing irritated from waiting, I looked down at my watch and then back up in the direction I knew Goldie would come from. As if she appeared from nowhere, I spotted her walking toward me. Her steps faltered as she looked up to find me staring her down. The grip on her purse tightened and her chin lifted as she continued to stride toward me.
Every inch of her was covered in clothing, clearly making a statement she was not to be ogled. She could cover herself up all she wanted. I still knew what kind of curves she was sporting under her clothes. They’d been burned in my brain from seeing her at Kitten’s Castle.
“Goldie,” I said more as a statement rather than a question.
“Uh, yeah. And you are?” she asked, not relaxing the death grip on her purse.
