Page 76 of Danger

I step up and finish it clean.

Game.

She exhales hard, hands on her hips. “Well. That feels rigged.”

I finally let myself grin. “You set the terms.”

She tilts her head, considering, then sighs like she’s accepted her fate. “Fine. Where are you taking me?”

I step closer, lowering my voice. “You’ll find out soon.”

She smiles. “You better not disappoint.”

“Well, first we have to fix this throw of yours,” I say, and I can’t help myself—I gotta help her. I step in behind her, reach around to guide her arm.

“Here. Throw it like this.” My hand wraps her delicate wrist. Her soft skin feels electric under my palm. She goes still—doesn’t move, just breathes. I feel it, like her whole body winding up, waiting for something. “Now flick your wrist just a tad.”

Once I let go, she does as I say. She doesn’t make it in the center, but it’s closer now.

I do my best to pretend nothing happened, that she has no effect on me. But my body doesn’t get the memo. My pulse is everywhere—throat, chest. I keep my eyes on the board, but all I’m thinkin’ about is how my body responds anytime I’m touching her.

This ain’t real, Danger. Don’t make it real.

“I think this isn’t my sport.” she says, shrugging.

“I think you’re right about that.”

“One good thing came from it. I can’t wait to see where you take me for fun,” she says, following me over to a nearby table.

“We’ll see. Fun for me might be misery for you.”

People are drinking more now. Sawyer and Honey are about ten minutes from dancing on the bar. And Rogue has unleashed his horrible dance moves. I grab two premade drinks waiting on the bartop before taking a seat.

Winnie settles in next to me, crossing her legs at the knee.

“Fisher had a time tonight. Do you ever think about what kind of chaos you’re unleashing on the world?” she asks, voice soft. “He’s gonna be a big deal, that one.”

“Maybe.” I take a long sip. “At least he won’t be boring.”

She nods, absently plucking at the threads at the bottom of her shirt, and I realize how much I don’t hate this. Being in her company.

“How did you do it, anyway—raise him so well? I mean, you were basically a kid yourself during the hardest years.”

I don’t look at her. Just swirl the beer in my glass. “You just do it.”

“There’s more to it than that?”

I shrug, letting the memory hit for a second—the middle-of-the-night feedings when he was six months old, the cries that never stopped, trying to figure out kids Tylenol, how the fuck to even shower. Sleepless, tired, terrified… but never letting him see it.

“Didn’t have a choice. Had to step up and be a fucking man.” The words come out rougher than I planned. Truth usually does.

She keeps searching my face like there’s light in there somewhere. Like there’s something good under all this damage.

There ain’t. Not for her. Not for anyone.

She lifts her hand slowly, like she’s giving me time to pull back, and smooths the crooked edge of my collar. Her fingers graze my skin, light but electric.

“You act like you don’t give a damn about anything,” she says softly. “But your eyes give you away.”