“Because we have a job to do,” Dom growls, growing as irritated as I am, “but if you’re a good boy, I’ll let you get a lollipop after.”
“Can it be stuck to the ass on that one?” Sean gestures toward a woman walking past us, this one a stunner with mile-long legs. “We’ve gone over this a thousand times. Seriously, how often do we get to do this? Never. We’re in Vegas, together, and we’re watching a boring-ass boxing match.”
He rambles on next to me as I press my shoulder to Dom’s. “What the fuck is going on with him?”
He eyeballs Sean past me and flicks his gaze to mine. “He got his feelings hurt.”
“I told you that shit was going to backfire.”
“You know, assuming makes you an asshole, right?” he retorts. “We’ve only shared a few, and I live in Boston at the moment, remember?”
“He didn’t tell me.”
“Why would he?” Dom’s eyes roll over me. “You don’t bleed like that.”
His words sink in as I turn my attention back to the fight with more patience than I had a minute ago. Despite being the quintessential ladies’ man, and though he jokes a lot, Sean has a lot of depth, and he takes life a lot more seriously than he lets on. With Dom in Boston for college and Tyler serving in the military, when I’m not in Charlotte or France, I spend my time with Sean and the rest of the chapter in Triple Falls. In that time, we’ve become closer, talking about mostly everything, a lot about life and shared philosophy. And the fact that Sean’s acting up because he’s hurting, and he didn’t feel like he could tell me, cuts deep. Not that I can blame him, I don’t do relationship talks. The sad truth is, I can’t really identify with their reality most of the time. I glance over at Sean and inspect him more carefully, and now that I know, I can clearly see the sting in his eyes, along with the ache coming from him.
Sean’s smile slips considerably when he glances over to me. “What?”
“You all right?”
His eyes harden past my shoulder at Dom for snitching before his gaze slowly travels back to me. “Can’t put a lion on a lily pad and expect him to roar the same way, right?”
We stare off for several seconds before he looks away. It’s then I understand, it’s the club, my rules, that caused this, along with the expectation that they remain just as focused and unattached.
Guilt latches on, and after a few seconds of watching Lance throw, I bump my knee with his. “We can talk about the rules. Maybe make a few changes.”
Sean shakes his head. “It’s not a bad idea for others, but it’s too late for me.” Subconsciously, he runs his hand along his shoulder where his ink lays beneath. “It’s better this way. I’m not ready to nest yet. But she was…，” he shakes his head. “I’m good, man. It is what it is.”
As Sean predicted, the fight begins to gain momentum as Lance starts to dominate the round. I dart my attention back to Elijah, who’s in Amelia’s face, berating her as she glances around, humiliated and terrified, just before her features twist in pain.
“Fuck this,” Sean stands suddenly, “I’m getting another beer.” I tap my wrist to remind him of the time.
“Yeah, yeah,” he musters a grin, “all work and no play makes T. a very boring boy.” He playfully smacks my chin, empty cup in hand, as he walks past the two of us in the opposite direction of concession.
“Where the fuck is he going?” Dom asks, as we both trail his gait, which becomes sloppier with every step he takes.
“Is he high?” I ask.
He shrugs, his eyes latched to Sean with concern. “No more than usual.”
Confused, I watch him as he begins to stumble into the rows of people surrounding the ring, reeling back as he’s pushed off a few, lifting his hands in apology, before he ambles around the corner. It’s when I see him closing in on Elijah that I realize his intent.