Chapter Fifteen

Compass

Fallon looked like she had seen a ghost.

We were sitting in chairs in front of a green screen with a camera pointed at us, a microphone hanging above us, and Clay sitting next to the camera with a clipboard in his hand. Mark was in the corner helping Drew fiddle with something on the camera.

“I don’t know why you want an interview with me,” Fallon said, her voice tight. “I’m not part of the club.”

Clay, who was focused on his clipboard, barely looked up. “But it appears you are dating someone from the club. That means you’re going to be on camera.” He glanced at her over the top of the board. “It’s in the contract.”

Fallon’s brows furrowed. “I didn’t sign a contract.”

“You didn’t need to. The club did.”

I could see her processing that, and her lips pressed into a thin line. She clearly didn’t like the answer, but what could she do about it now?

Clay reached to the side and grabbed the movie slate. “Let’s get this show on the road. Action.” Clay clapped the slate loudly, and Fallon flinched at the sound.

“Easy, babe,” I said softly and leaned toward her. “You’re going to be fine.”

Fallon glanced at me, and her eyes were wide as she searched mine. “I’m going to puke,” she whispered.

“It’s just nerves, babe. You’ll be fine once we get started.” I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. The first time I’d been in front of these cameras, I’d felt just as out of place. Now, it didn’t bother me at all.

“I’ve got a list of questions and things I want to go over,” Clay said, his voice flat and professional. “Just answer them honestly, and don’t worry about the camera.”

Fallon muttered under her breath, “Easier said than done.”

I reached for her hand again and threaded my fingers through hers. “Just look at me if it gets too weird,” I murmured. “We’ll get through this together.”

She exhaled deeply and nodded, and her fingers tightened around mine.

Clay’s eyes flicked to our hands, and I caught the subtle annoyance on his face. It was obvious he didn’t like seeing her with me. I wasn’t surprised—if I were in his shoes, it’d sting like hell.

“All right,” Clay said and settled into his chair. “The first question is for Compass. How did you and Fallon meet?”

I leaned back in my chair and took a second to think. I knew I could tweak the truth, but I wasn’t sure of all the details about Fallon and Clay’s past. I didn’t want to say something that’d overlap when she was with Clay.

“Uh, why don’t we let Fallon answer that,” I suggested and glanced at her.

Her lips quirked into a small smile as she straightened in her seat. “Yeah, I can totally answer that,” she chirped. “Compass and I met three years ago when I was driving through Mt. Pleasant on my way to Little Rock to visit my mom. My car broke down, and he offered to help me.” She turned her head slightly and caught my eyes. Her smile softened, and my chest tightened. “Let’s just say I was a day late getting to my mom’s, and then I made sure to stop in Mt. Pleasant on my way back to Austin.”

“We’ve kept in touch,” I added and let my arm rest casually on the back of her chair, “and Fallon finally moved here last week.”

She leaned into me, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “Best decision ever,” she whispered.

I couldn’t help but grin. “Agreed.”

Clay cleared his throat, his tone flat and disinterested. “How nice,” he muttered, his pen poised over his clipboard like he was taking notes. “How do you feel about Compass being part of a motorcycle gang?”

My jaw tightened, but I kept my voice level. “Club,” I corrected him. “It’s a motorcycle club.”

Clay barely acknowledged the correction and glared at me with thinly veiled contempt. “Sure. Motorcycle club.”

Fallon answered before I could get into it with him. “Uh, I like it,” she said confidently. Her tone dismissed any judgment. “It shows that he’s loyal and will do anything for his friends. I would say that’s a huge green flag.”

“Green flag is good?” I asked and looked at her with confusion.

“Yes,” Fallon laughed, and her eyes sparkled. “It’s a very good thing.”

Clay flipped a page on his clipboard, and his smirk returned as he settled on Fallon. “What made you quit your job with Russ Finley?” he asked, and his voice dripped with fake curiosity. “How do you go from working with the Texas Attorney General to opening a cake shop with a biker’s girlfriend?”

Fallon tipped her head to the side, and her expression instantly cooled. “What made you decide to leave a broadcaster job at one of the most prominent stations in Texas?” she shot back.

I stifled a laugh. Thatta girl.

Clay’s fake composure cracked. “That has nothing to do with this,” he growled, and his grip on the clipboard tightened.

“And I don’t think me switching jobs has anything to do with this either,” Fallon fired back and sat straighter in her chair. “Focus on Compass and the club, not me. No one’s watching this show to learn what I’m doing with my life. I’m nobody.”

Clay’s lip curled in what I guessed he thought was a smile. “That’s the first truth you’ve said,” he drawled.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut—not because they were true, but because of how cruel they were. My blood boiled, and I had to grip the arms of the chair to keep from flying across the room and knocking Clay into the next week.

“Be careful with what you say to Fallon,” I warned, my voice low and steady.

Clay chuckled and shook his head like he thought I was being dramatic. “Pretty sure she can handle it.”

“But I’m pretty sure you can’t handle me when I knock your head off your shoulders,” I shot back.

That got his attention. Clay sat up straighter in his chair and shifted uncomfortably. He glanced back toward Mark and Drew as if looking for backup.

Mark stood with his arms folded across his chest, his face an unreadable mask. Drew, meanwhile, seemed very interested in the ceiling tiles. Neither of them was going to help him out of this one.

I leaned forward slightly and narrowed my eyes at Clay. “They ain’t gonna fucking help you. Stick to the questions on your clipboard and stop the shit with Fallon.” I let the words hang in the air for a moment before adding, “I can’t help that you fucking fumbled her, and now I’m the one who’s got her. Sucks to be you.”

Clay’s face flushed with anger and humiliation, but he didn’t say anything. He just stared at me, and his jaw worked like he was chewing on a reply he didn’t have the guts to say out loud.

Fallon shifted beside me, and her hand rested on my forearm. “Compass,” she murmured, her voice soft and steady. It was enough to pull me back from the edge.

I took a deep breath and leaned back in my chair again. Clay, meanwhile, seemed to collect himself and flipped through his clipboard like he was looking for a way to regain control of the situation.

“Let’s move on,” he said tightly and didn’t meet my eyes.

“Sounds like a good fucking idea to me,” I grunted.

Good fucking idea for sure.