Page 10 of Angel
She’s not just grieving. She’s blaming herself in ink. And I didn’t stop it. I watched it happen because I was scared of saying the wrong thing. Now she’s out there alone with that madness in her head. And I’m standing in my kitchen like a man who’s lost control of his own home.
I grab my vest and keys. I need noise, movement, just something that isn’t this suffocating quiet.
The clubhouse is loud tonight. Too loud. Music pounding. Laughter spilling out from the bar. Glass clinking. Pool balls cracking. The world moving on like mine didn’t just tilt off its axis.
The neon sign hums like a swarm of bees. I step inside, and the smell hits me: beer, fried food, smoke from the back patio, sweat, and leather. Normally, it calms me. Tonight, it just makes me feel hollow. Tank spots me the second I walk in.
“You look like hell,” he says, already sliding a beer across the bar.
I don’t bother denying it. I down half the bottle in one go and feel nothing but cold.
“Stevie, okay?” he asks, quieter now.
I shake my head once. “She walked.”
Tank’s jaw tightens. “Where?”
“Didn’t say.”
Sarg leans in from the end of the bar, eyes sharp behind his glasses. “That bad?”
I let out a breath that feels like it’s been trapped in my lungs for weeks.
“She’s spiralin’,” I say. “Obsessed. Tryin’ to fix somethin’ that ain’t broken.”
Tank’s gaze hardens. “Her?”
I swallow. “Yeah.”
Sarg’s voice stays calm. “And you?”
I laugh, bitter and sharp. “Apparently watchin’ her do it.”
Tank sets his beer down hard enough that foam sloshes.
“You can’t let her drown just because you’re afraid of rockin’ the boat.”
“I have been tryin’,” I snap before I can stop myself. “Every word I say just pushes her further away.”
“Then maybe it ain’t about words,” Tank says. “Maybe it’s about callin’ in backup.”
My spine stiffens.
“She doesn’t want the club in this.”
“No,” Tank agrees. “But she might need it anyway.”
Sarg nods slowly. “Carrie’s already worried.”
“That’s the problem,” I growl. “Everyone’s worried. Everyone watches her like she’s glass. She can feel it. It makes her shut down more.”
“Then don’t watch her,” Tank says. “Stand with her.”
I grip the bottle so hard my knuckles ache.
Joker appears beside us like he’s been listening the whole time. Probably has.
“Where’d she go?” he asks, voice low.
