Between Us (The Renegade Saints #3) (13 page)

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be with anyone,” Ian counters.

Devon waves him off as she takes a sip her wine. “The problem with her is she wants to be with too many people. She spends more nights out of our apartment than in it. I laugh when girls say being a lesbian would be easier than dating men. It’s so not true. Lana has as many commitment issues as any straight person I know.”

“Did you always know she was gay,” he questions.

“Oh yeah,” Devon laughs. “I’ve known Lana since we were three. Her mom is a dance instructor, so we met at the family ballet studio. By the time we were twelve, I was positive Lana didn’t like boys.”

Ian leans forward, apparently enthralled with the story. “Are her parents supportive of her? I have a friend whose parents didn’t take it well,” he shares.

“Madame Kozlov had dreams of
her Svetlana
becoming the world’s most renowned prima ballerina. She was beyond disappointed when Lana eschewed the whole thing, so they don’t talk much. Madame has no problem with her being a lesbian, but Lana choosing not to dance is unacceptable. Her father killed himself shortly before she came out. He was a dancer, and he suffered a career ending injury. As soon as he knew there was no fix for it, he hung himself.”

“That’s awful,” I comment. “What an asshole.”

Reminds me of Gavin’s father—once he lost what he loved, he got busy dying. What the hell is wrong with people?

“Like Madame, Sergei only cared about dancing,” Devon answers. “Lana had a harder time dealing with how disconnected they both were from everyday life than she did with his death. In a way, I think it spurred her to be her most authentic self.”

Opening another bottle of wine, I top off our glasses. We continue talking as we eat and bottle number two is gone within the blink of an eye. By the time dinner is over, I’m feeling pretty damn relaxed and it seems as if Devon and Ian are as well. Whatever was bothering Ian earlier seems to have faded away. Clearing the table is a group effort, and after we’re finished, we head into my game room to play pool.

When we walk into the game room, they both come to a halt. I’m so used to it that only when someone has a reaction like they are now do I remember how unusual a room like this is. The room is enormous—two thousand square feet of fun. There’s a karaoke area, a pool table, a wall of arcade games, ping-pong, air hockey and a central feature that gets an unbelievable amount of use. Devon lets out a gasp as she rushes to it.

“Oh wow,” she sighs. “This setup is amazeballs.”

She’s right, it is. The gaming area is built around a central tower in the middle of the room. There are five separate TV’s and each has a Playstation hooked up to it. In front of each individual gaming area, there’s a large leather recliner with a built-in cup holder. This is my favorite room in the house, not to mention the one that gets the most use.

“Do you have tournaments or something?”

I laugh as I make a half and half hand gesture. “Kinda. The guys and I like to fuck around on our down time and we’re very competitive. Tyson has a similar setup so whenever we all want to fuck off, everyone shows up at one of our houses.”

Trailing a finger over one of the leather seats, Devon turns to me. “There are four of you, but five areas. I’m guessing you keep the fifth for guests?”

“Nah,” I chortle. “The fifth one is Gram’s.”

Ian lets out a whistle. “That’s badass! Is she any good?”

“Let’s put it like this. Tyson is the best of all of us but Gram is a close second. Her Grand Theft Auto stats are legendary and she’s damn good at the other games we play, too.”

“I can’t believe she plays video games,” Devon replies.

“Gram’s the shit,” I say proudly.

They both nod in agreement.

“She really is,” Devon concurs. “I’m going to have to get her gamer tag and add her to my friends list immediately.”

My head rears back in surprise. “You play?”

“I’d own you on Call of Duty,” she boasts with a cocky grin.

Ian shakes his head as he looks down at her. “Not so fast, Dev. You can’t just throw statements like that around without being ready to back it up.”

“You don’t think I can take you,” she asks incredulously.

“Not sure,” he shrugs, “but I doubt it. I’m pretty good. Top five hundred in the world,” he boasts.

Devon’s shoulders slump a bit as she frowns. “I don’t know if I can top that, but I can try. I’m always up for a challenge.”

Turning my way, she gives me a pleading look. “Can we play this instead of pool? Please? Maybe you can both teach me something.”

I’d walk in the snow barefoot if she asked.

“Of course. You can sit here,” I say as I gesture to Flynn’s seat, which is of course right next to mine.

Turning to Ian, I put him on the other side of me at Ty’s setup. I try not to focus too much on my need to make sure he’s not right next to Devon. I want us all together, I really do, even if my actions don’t always reflect it. After loading the proper game disks for each of us in, I grab two beers for Ian and I, and another glass of wine for Devon. Having us all squared away, I take my seat.

I’ll tell you what. I was prepared to go easy on Devon—to be a gentleman. I didn’t need to bother. In fact, I needed to bring my A-game and it still wasn’t enough. Her assertion that we might be able to teach her something turned out to be laughable.

Once she got comfortable in the recliner, she schooled our asses in Call of Duty for several hours. Neither of us even got in the vicinity of doing as well as she did. Ian and I each tried to keep up with her, to no avail. I’d say it didn’t help that Ian and I each had a few more beers, but honestly, I don’t think it would’ve mattered. She’s that good.

Since the bar is right behind the game center, by the time we’re done playing, each of us has a pretty good buzz going, especially Ian. Once we’re all powered down and standing, we each stretch before heading to the bar. I chuckle when I see Ian staring at Devon like she’s some kind of magician.

“I’d like to say you kicked ass because I’m pretty fucking buzzed, but I have the feeling that would’ve happened anyway. Now that you beat us both to a pulp,” he laughs, “you care to share what your overall stats are?”

She gives him a devilish grin. “As of yesterday, I’m number ninety-six in the world.”

He smacks his hand on his forehead as he lets out a groan, stumbling a little as he does.

“I fucking walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

Lifting her hand, she put her pointer finger and her thumb about a hairs width apart from each other. “Just a tiny bit,” she admits.

“I’ll never underestimate you again,” he vows.

“See that you don’t,” she giggles as she hops up onto a barstool.

Stepping behind the bar, I gesture to the coffee area of the setup.

“Ian’s pretty smashed, and you and I are probably borderline. Think we should switch to coffee during the movie, or do you want one last drink?”

Tapping her index finger against her chin, Devon considers the options. Turning to Ian, she raises her eyebrows.

“Are you cool if I have one more?”

“You and I each have to drive in a few hours,” he reminds her.

“You don’t
have
to,” I interject. “There are four guest rooms upstairs.”

It’s impossible to miss how Ian tenses.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you,” he drawls. “Guess what, Cole? I don’t fucking want to sleep in one of
your
beds!”

I’m instantly sobered by his words. Devon’s gasp makes me angry. Not at her—never at her—but at Ian. What the fuck is he thinking being a cocksucker in front of her?

“Out of fucking bounds,” I snap. “You don’t talk that way when Devon’s around.”

Ian’s hand slashes through the air as he lets out a dark sounding laugh. “She’s not stupid,” he snarls. “I saw you with her earlier when you were looking at her like you were about to eat her alive. You bother to tell her how you had me pinned to a fucking wall after Incubus?”

Before I can say a word, and believe me I’ve got about seven thousand of them ready to go, Devon hops off the barstool and gets up in Ian’s face.

“You’re drunk and saying things you don’t mean,” she says quietly.

“No,” he counters, “I’m just tired of having it be out there but not talked about. We’re getting the elephant out in the room. I think I could like you,” he says matter-of-factly as he points to her. “But then I’m dealing with this asshole over here, and he’s making me feel things I don’t fucking want to feel.”

Turning my way, he glares at me. “None of it makes any sense because I’m not fucking gay,” he bellows.

“I never said you were,” I counter angrily. “You see things in the most black and white way!”

“Because it’s the only way to see things,” he asserts.

I raise my hands in a gesture of supplication. “I’m not trying to force anything on you,” I assure him. “I know you want it, I can see it—I think everyone can—but if you think you don’t want it, I’m not holding a gun to your head.”

His shoulders slump as he glares at me. “See—that’s the thing. You are. You put the thought in my head and now it won’t go away.”

“I’m not a magician,” I say stonily.

“You sure about that?”

I don’t even know what to say since Ian argues or fights back against every word I utter. Looking at Devon, I raise a brow.
What the hell
, I mouth.

She shakes her head at me before stepping closer to Ian and setting a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re having a panic attack,” she says calmly.

I find myself in the position of having to tamp down a serious flare of jealousy as he leans into her and wraps an arm around her. He’s out of his fucking mind if he thinks I’m letting him take her away from me. It won’t happen.

“My life,” he mumbles. “Of all the things that could’ve happened, this is just the worst.”

I’m empathetic to whatever it is he’s going through, I really am. But I’m holding myself in place by the thinnest of threads. When he wraps another arm around her and leans into her, I just about snap. There is no part of me that doesn’t want to tell him to take his fucking hands off of her. A feeling of panic swirls in my gut as I struggle to breathe evenly. My fists clench at my sides and I grit my teeth as I stare at Ian. This motherfucker is crafty, getting her into his arms the way he has. If this is a play to get her with him and away from me…

Fuck. I don’t know what I’ll do.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into? And why do I care so fucking much about her? This isn’t about them, him, or me anymore. It’s all about her. When the fuck did that happen?

I
t somehow feels wrong to have Ian holding on to me the way he is. My body is attracted to him—but my mind is another issue entirely. My stomach is a roiling mess as I struggle to stay still. Ian is a good guy and he needs a friend. I can be that person for him—but I’m also terrified that him throwing down the way he just did means anything with Cole may be off the table. I was open to having Ian with us, but anyone else? I’m not so sure. The sick feeling in my stomach suggests the answer is a definitive no.

I pat Ian on the back soothingly. “You’re going to be okay,” I assure him.

Letting go of me, he lurches backward. “I don’t feel so good,” he mumbles. “I think—“ he pauses for a second before nodding. “Yeah. Bathroom.”

My eyes go right to Cole, and I’m not surprised to see him already stepping forward. Grabbing one of Ian’s arms, he helps him start walking toward the bathroom. When I see Ian stumble, I rush forward and take his other arm. Fortunately he’s not dead weight, so we make quick work of getting him there. He unceremoniously drops to the floor in front of the toilet with a groan.

“Fucking broke the goddamn rules,” he croaks.

Cole and I look at each other in confusion.

Looking down at Ian I say, “Rules?”

“Never ever mix wine and beer,” he mumbles.

Cole and I let out matching laughs.

“Dude, that’s not the rule,” Cole argues. “The rule is wine before beer and you’re in the clear.”

“Nooo, it’s wine before beer, sick for a year,” Ian insists. “I am so fucked.”

“I think it’s subjective,” I joke.