Page 63 of Heart Over Heels

I almost made a joke of it—oh sure, anything for Bingo—but the sincerity in his eyes stripped the humor out of me. So I just nodded and squeezed his hand again before I could lose my nerve.

He pushed the door open, and voices and the clatter of chairs spilled out like a tide. With Mercer’s hand still clasped in mine, I let it carry me in.

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

Mercer

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about this.

Too much, maybe.

What little I’d told Jack and Earl did not begin to cover the total package that was Darby. He was a walking conundrum that had upset every belief I’d had about my sexuality and challenged the vow I’d made to spend the rest of my life single.

The truth was, I’d never had much of a married life to begin with. And really, I shouldn’t have expected things with Rachel to be a roaring success. We’d dated for less than a year before she got pregnant with Molly. A speedy courthouse wedding followed, and then I was off to boot camp.

Looking back, I wasn’t sure I’d ever really loved her. Not in the way I understood love now. I was equally doubtful she’d loved me.

When she divorced me, it hurt—coming home from a long deployment to find those papers waiting on the counter. But it was also a kind of mercy because I would’ve clung to that vow forever, even if it made me miserable.

I should have taken my freedom and run with it.

Instead, I was left debilitated and devastated. I buried myself in rehab and then the slow grind of trying to reintegrate into society. Dating, intimacy, and any thoughts of a relationship were shoved aside. It was hard to fathom letting a stranger close while I was learning to live inside a body that felt strange all on its own.

Awareness of the present returned as I pushed into the building with Darby’s hand clasped in mine. I couldn’t tell if the gesture was meant to steady him or me, but it worked either way. The knots in my chest eased, and I found myself more settled than I’d been all evening—ready to face Jack, Earl, and the rest of the Post regulars.

It sent a message, arriving like we did. A statement that was practically a shout above the scuffle of chairs on linoleum, the murmur of small talk being exchanged, and Bingo balls rattling in the hopper.

People looked our way. Many I recognized and a fair few I didn’t. They stared and raised brows, trying to identify the newcomer at my hip. The dark-skinned, demonic diva was always, everywhere, a head-turner. Even dressed down and disguised, Darby drew every eye in the room.

Seeing him walking across the club with his tail tucked out of sight and his horns hidden in the nest of a wig, I’d felt… unnerved. He’d been so blasé about his features at my house just last week, showing confidence and a sense of self-acceptance that I couldn’t help but admire. But something had changed, and now he was hiding. I hoped like hell he didn’t think he needed to do that for me.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

I’d wanted to make a good impression on Darby, to get to know him a little more. I’dreallywanted to take him on a date, but I hadn’t had the guts to call this that after seeing the kind of restaurants he liked to frequent.

Just some fun, I told myself. An average weeknight thing. A glimpse into my world. But by bringing him here and introducing him to the closest things I had to friends, I was opening us both up to scrutiny.

“Hey, Doc! Over here!”

Jack’s gruff bark carried through the stagnant air. I spotted him anchored at the end of a six-foot folding table with his wife Ava beside him and Earl on the other side.

“Better get your cards quick,” Earl added, reminding me to focus on something other than the small sea of people dialed into my every move.

I scanned the room, lighting on the table I’d passed without noticing. Beside the door, one of the wives sat behind a cashbox with stacks of Bingo cards fanned out in front of her. Neon-colored daubers filled an empty beer pitcher at her elbow.

Releasing Darby’s hand, I dug out my wallet and paid for a few cards for each of us. The bills felt damp in my palm, but I couldn’t tell if it was the humidity in the room or the nerves in me.

Gripping the cards and a pair of daubers, I snagged Darby’s fingers again. I realized—too late—that the moisture came from my clammy skin, now clamped firmly in Darby’s grasp. I cringed inwardly but didn’t let go.

Instead, I steered us through the maze of tables and chairs, angling toward the empty seats next to Jack, Ava, and Earl.

“These are some buddies of mine,” I explained as we moved across the room. “Mind if I introduce you?”

“Not at all,” Darby replied, quieter than I’d ever heard him.

He edged closer as we walked, near enough that our arms brushed and hips bumped. The little demon, usually all sharp wit and swagger, hugged tight to my side, and I was tempted to forgo the handholding and slip my arm around his waist instead. Just a quick touch. A reassurance.