Chapter Sixty-Seven
The physical ache of Jake’s absence didn't ease as the first week crawled into the second. Instead, it grew heavier, turning into a dull, constant throb that followed me from the cold, empty bed in the mornings to the grease-stained floors of the clubhouse at night.
But the hardest part wasn't the silence of the bedroom. It was the shift in the air downstairs.
With Jake gone, and with Vivian’s name still spoken like a sacred charm by the senior members, my presence behind the bar had become a target. I was no longer the Vice President's protected girl; I was a fragile outsider who had overstayed her welcome, a lingering reminder of the mistakes and the clutter the club was trying to scrub away.
The morning shift had just ended, and the clubhouse was relatively quiet
