Raven rolled his eyes, grinning. “It’s just an example. But that’s what it made me think of when you said you hadn’t really wanted to sleep around since your last relationship.”
More than anything, I felt—confused. Because it honestly had felt for years like there was a piece of me that was missing or broken. But now Raven was saying there were other people that felt the way I did about sex, enough that someone had coined a term. I still wasn’t sure if it fit me, though.
“Didn’t you sleep with Dawson before you knew him, though?” Joker asked.
Right. The whole demisexuality thing didn’t really click here because I’d hardly known Dawson at all when we’d first slept together after that night at Ballast.
“I dunno,” Dante said. “There’s something to be said for seeing a kindred soul, even if you don’t know them all the way yet. Sometimes there’s just that feeling of clicking, you know?”
He glanced meaningfully at Heath, and Heath blushed and grinned at his shoes.
“Gross,” Eli said. “Get a room.”
“Okay, no more about love, back to Nix’s sex life,” Dante said with a laugh.
I laughed, too, but Dante had a point. I saw a lot of my own journey in Dawson’s behavior, and something about him just… drew me in, in a way that had nothing to do with sex or physical attraction. Like even before I knew him, there was part of me that knew I should get closer. I nodded at Dante.
“I’ve never felt that way about someone before,” I admitted. “It was really… overwhelming.”
“It makes sense to me,” Heath said with a nod. “Sometimes you just know.”
Even Joker nodded in apparent agreement.
“But I don’t know,” I said with a wave of my hand. “I’m just… I’m just going with the flow.”
“You might even say you’re following your heart,” Raven said with a big, cheesy grin.
“Gross,” Joker said, parroting Eli.
Honestly, Raven was right. Intuitively I felt drawn to Dawson, and that was enough for me to pursue the feeling. I trusted my gut—and my heart. Even if it went nowhere, I wanted to try.
“Addict is enough of a label,” I said with nod and a grin. “I’m not really worried about what to call myself. I just need to figure out what to do.”
“Right,” Raven said. “Admittedly, that’s the harder part.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Dante asked carefully. “You know I trust you, but… that man likes to drink.”
A thoughtful silence fell over the room, breaking the lighthearted atmosphere. I cringed internally—Dante wasn’t wrong to bring that up.
“Honestly? I’m not sure,” I said. “But if it comes down to it, I’ll put my sobriety first. I trust myself to do that.”
That much was true, even if it hurt to say it aloud. I couldn’t help Dawson at all if my own addictions reared their heads again.
Dante looked a little relieved as he nodded. “And you know you can always come to us to work through things, right?”
I carded my hands through my hair and then took another sip of my coffee. “Thanks, Dante. Between you guys and my AA group… I’ve got support, at least.”
Yeah, it wasn’t easy—but I was starting to think it might be worth the trouble to figure it out.
9
Dawson
I packed the last of my tools into my toolbelt and swung it back on with a groan of displeasure. My whole body ached: my knees hurt from crouching down and standing up, my back ached from heavy lifting, my hands were stiff from the tools. I was sticky with sweat, exhausted, and itching for a beer. Tall and frothy in a frosty glass.
Stubbornly, I’d been avoiding all bars, not just Ballast. It was my way of proving to Brennan, and the club, that I didn’t need to go out. They weren’t taking anything away from me by banning me from Ballast, not really. And if I had a few beers in my own home after a workday, well, that was my business. I was working my fingers to the bone on this project—my shoulders twinged as I adjusted the toolbelt as if to remind me exactly how hard I’d bene working—and I more than earned a drink or two at the end of the day.
It’s not like I had a whole lot else going on in my life, anyway. What else was I supposed to do? Drinking and watching television was part of my winding-down routine. It was more fun with Brennan, sure, but his nights were typically occupied these days.
I glanced around the jobsite, trying to see if I’d mislaid any tools or forgotten to pack anything up. The sun was low in the sky, and it’d be dark before long. I was eager to get home—but why? What did I have to look forward to? Another depressing night alone?
“See ya tomorrow, Dawson,” Brennan hollered from the other end of the jobsite. He gave me a friendly wave, as did Joker at his side, and they walked in step up the path toward his truck with their hands entwined.
Jealousy flared in me—it was an unfortunately familiar reaction at this point. I wanted that easy connection back. I wanted someone to choose me and let me choose them in return.
“Finished up?” a familiar voice asked.
Heat rose in my cheeks. I swallowed and tried to regain my composure before I turned around.
The day had been a parade of club members acting as my chaperone on-site. They took short shifts, which made sense, considering it wasn’t exactly a super thrilling gig to sit in a camping chair and watch me fuck around with the cabin foundation. Nix had shown up in the morning, but was relieved by Siren a few hours later, and then I’d lost track of the members as they came and went.
Now Nix was back, standing in his tight jeans and leather jacket with one thumb hooked into his belt loops casually, as he adjusted his glasses with the other hand. His gaze always made my face flush—it was like he could see right through me. Like I could see his recollection of our night together in his gaze.
That’s what really fucking confused me. I didn’t know what he wanted from me—or from our relationship in general. First, we have one wild, intensely good round of sex, then we agreed to be friends, and then we had a weird non-date that ends with us making out again—and Nix leaving to go see some other guy right in the middle of it.
I wished he would just tell me what he wanted from me. It was clear whoever had called him that night was someone really important to him. More than any old friend. The way he’d answered that call, it was almost like he’d been expecting it. But if he had been expecting it, why hadn’t he warned me that call might come before the date happened?
When I thought about it, it all just made me feel a little disposable. But when we were actually together, I didn’t feel that way at all. Or at least—when we were together alone. When it was just the two of us, all the walls fell away. We connected. Like we’d been waiting for each other.
But when the other club members were around, Nix became a consummate professional—and I did, too. We both had a lot on the line. And that, too, only added to the confusion. Which was the real Nix? I had too much pride to beg him for clarification. But I couldn’t deny that I wanted to keep getting closer to him to find out.