This stops now.
I can't let Everly get under my skin like this, can’t allow my feelings for her to escape my control.
Because if I lose control, I become that kid again—the one who solves problems with violence, the one who hurts people.
And I can't be that person.
Not again.
Not ever.
Thursday, I stay away from Trinity. I force myself to work at the clubhouse all day and I don't let myself think about where Everly is or what she's doing.
It doesn't work but I try.
Tank finds me in the garage around three. "You look like shit."
"Thanks."
"You sleep?"
"Not really."
He hands me a bottle of water. "Drink this and take a break."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You've been working on that same bolt for twenty minutes."
I look down and realize he's right. I've been turning the same bolt over and over without actually tightening it.
"Fuck."
"Yeah, fuck." He leans against the workbench. "What's going on with you?"
"Nothing."
"Bullshit. You've been off all week."
I don't answer because I don't have one that won't make this worse.
Tank's quiet for a long time, then he says, "This about Everly?"
"No."
"You're lying."
"Yeah, I am."
He sighs. "You need to walk away from this, brother. Nothing good is going to come from it."
"I know."
"Then why aren't you?"
"Because I can't seem to make myself stay away."
The admission hangs there between us and I hate how true it is.