Tex (Hell's Ankhor #5) - Aiden Bates Page 0,30

had just been so happy to be accepted back—it was like he didn’t realize what the stakes were. I just wanted him to take it seriously.

Siren knocked her heel against the sedan’s trunk, jerking me out of my reverie. “It’s obvious,” she said.

“What is?” I asked.

“You’re scared.” Siren used the tone she used on citizens in the shop when they asked her too many questions about their cars—the dumbing-down tone. Maybe I deserved it. “You’re scared he’ll make another mistake, and there won’t be anything you can do about it.”

“I’m not scared,” I said automatically. “It’s happened before. Who’s to say it won’t happen again?”

“He did,” Siren said.

She was right. He’d promised me. Why wasn’t that enough? Why couldn’t I stop thinking about how easy it was to make one misplaced decision?

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Siren smiled, catlike and knowing.

“Eh, maybe you should a little,” Maverick grumbled.

Siren shot him a dirty look. “I mean—he just got out of prison. Of course you’re afraid he’ll somehow end up back in. It happens to a lot of guys, and yeah, there’s a risk of that happening to him, too. It’s enforcing. It’s not a cakewalk.”

“Right?” I felt a little vindicated. “It’s risky.”

“But,” Siren said.

Ugh. Always a ‘but.’

“You’re too focused on who he used to be. You’re not seeing how much he’s changed because you can’t let go of who he was.” She peered at me curiously, like she could read how right she was in my expression. I don’t know what my face was doing, but she must’ve been satisfied with my reaction because she kept talking. “So don’t try to just pick up where you left off. Prison changes you.” Her expression darkened. “More than you might expect.”

“I know that.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you?”

I looked away, unable to hold her gaze. Truth was, I hadn’t even asked him about it. I had no idea what he’d gone through in there, really. All I knew was my own fear and loneliness the last three years—worrying about him every day, wanting to see him, trying to keep him updated in my letters without letting him know how terrified I was. Part of me didn’t want to know what had happened in San Quentin, for fear that the reality was worse than I could imagine. I wouldn’t know the first thing to do with that, how to help him.

Selfish. I was being fucking selfish.

I guess I did want to pretend like it’d never happened. Like we’d just hit pause on our friendship and could resume without any difficulties. It was easier to do that than to try to understand the ways that prison had changed him—to realize that even though we’d spent years living in each other’s pockets, there were things we might not know about each other now, things we had to relearn.

“Just try to get to know him again,” Siren said, like she was reading my mind. “Give him space to surprise you.”

“Siren’s right,” Maverick said. “And you’ve changed, too. It’s not a bad thing.”

I didn’t feel like I’d changed. But maybe I had—maybe the past three years hadn’t only affected Jazz.

Maybe I was trying to be someone I wasn’t. Maybe that’s the reason why things were so strained between us right now, because I was trying to fit us back in a box we didn’t belong in anymore…

“Just go talk to him,” Maverick pressed. “Both of you are so damned stubborn. That much hasn’t changed.”

I snorted a laugh. “You’ve got no idea. I used to be the more stubborn out of the two of us, but he’s giving me a run for my money these days.”

“Eh,” Siren said, waving her hand in a so-so motion. “Not letting you get away with bullshit isn’t the same as being stubborn.”

Ouch. Maybe she had a point. No way I was going to admit that, though. “Fine, fine,” I deflected. “I’ll figure it out.”

Maverick clapped me on the back. “Good man. Just don’t take too long—we’ve still got a lot of work left for the day.”

I nodded and left out the side door, cutting through the shared parking lot between Ankhor Works and Custom Ankhs. Through the window, judging by the logo on the back of the leather jacket, I saw that we had a Liberty Crew biker in the shop, and he looked pissed. He was looming over an unfazed Jonah, who regarded him with a bored expression. At the desk, Heath chewed his lower lip anxiously, and Jazz stood a