Page 73 of Pin My Alpha
My brain supplies the word and I want to punch it. Great. Perfect. Love that for me.
I just stare at the bar top under my cheek. There’s a wet smear of spilled beer near my hand, a crushed gold confetti star stuck to the wood, and one tiny sliver of glass catching the light by the register. The relaunch was a success. People came, they stayed, they posted the stupid photos Jude made everyone take. The new menu boards are up. The socials did numbers. Byrne’s was saved.
I was saved.
No. Wrong word.
I made myself useful.
That’s the whole point, isn’t it? I’m good at that. Good at finding the weak spots in a business, in a plan, in a person’s stupid argument. I fix things nobody else wants to touch. Give me enough information and a decent internet connection, and I can build you a way out.
Just don’t ask me to stay once the work is done.
Behind me, Declan shifts carefully. His hand hovers at my waist for a second before he pulls it back like I’m a hot stove.
“Shay,” he says.
My throat closes up.
“No.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re about to.”
He goes quiet.
That’s worse. Declan’s silence used to be easy. It used to feel like room to breathe, like he was giving me time to make whatever smartass comment I needed before he said something low and dry that made me laugh in spite of myself.
Now it’s just empty space where a fight should be.
His cock slips free of me with a slick, ugly sound and I flinch. My whole body jerks before I can stop it.
Fuck.
The second it happens, I know he saw it. I don’t even have to turn around. His whole expression goes tight, something flickering behind his eyes, and my stomach twists.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.
“Don’t.”
“I am.”
“Yeah, well. That doesn’t actually help right now.”
“I know.”
The stupid thing is, he does. He knows exactly when to stop pushing. He knows when my voice gets too flat. He knows I take my coffee black when I’m stressed and add oat milk when I’m pretending I’m fine. He knows I hate being fussed over in public but will steal fries off his plate if he leaves them within reach.
He knows me.
That should mean something.
It should.
I push up off the bar before my brain can take that thought anywhere soft. My legs wobble immediately, because apparently the universe has decided I need to be humiliated in every available category tonight. I catch myself on the edge of the counter.
Declan takes half a step forward.
