Her navy blues volley and glisten, her voice a plea. “Dom, if we could stop this, we would have already. You think I don’t feel guilty? You think I wanted to feel for you? You’re holding back with me,” she emits, “but I can tell you don’t want to no matter how hard you push back . . . I can tell. Lie all you want to me, to yourself, but I know better. I know you better.”
It’s the truth. The totality of it. I’m fucking fooling myself into thinking that there’s still a tipping point. I’m already past it. But my brother can’t suffer for it. My club can’t suffer for it. There’s too much at stake.
“What the hell do you really know?” I snap, stepping out of her reach. “Let me clue you in . . . what I allow you to know, which is nothing.”
I can see the second my venom hits her and ball my fists as the burn starts to singe the whole of my chest.
“I know you’re guarding yourself with me to the point it’s starting to bother you. You want to be with me, and you won’t let yourself. Just tell me why. And I know enough,” she says softly, eyes still pleading.
“Obviously, you don’t. Do we really need to have this conversation again? I’m not bitter, or jaded, or fucking broken.” I roll my eyes down her frame. “I’m just not interested. So, let me sum it up for you.” I point to my chest. “I’m just another busy criminal that fucks you, and you’re a convenient fuck. Get your head out of the clouds. There is no us.”
She closes her eyes and presses her lips together to absorb the sting before they open. It’s the smug uplift of her lips along with the clear ‘you stupid bastard’ in her expression that tells me she didn’t believe a word I just fucking said—and we both know it.
“Okay, Dom, okay,” she exhales resigned, chest pumping along with the slight shake of her head in a call of bullshit before she turns and leaves me there, annoyed, frustrated, naked, hard, breathless, and . . . fucking enamored.
Tossing my stress ball from where I lay on my bed, with every catch, I begin to tick off the reasons for letting her go as my limbs grow heavy, no doubt due to my long shift at the garage.
Toss.
Brother.
Catch.
Club.
Toss.
Hindrance to progress.
Catch.
Liability.
Toss.
Fucking her the first time was fucking up.
Catch.
Allowing her into my space, my bed . . . all of it was senseless, pointless, and unnecessary.
Thunder rumbles as the storm continues to rage outside, and concern spikes that she drove home in this weather. Resisting the urge to ask Sean if he’s heard from her or tune into the mics in her room, I slap off my bedroom light and resume my place on my mattress.
I gave up my right to know.
Facts.
Ended it.
Point blank.
Had to.
Watching my bedside clock, a low spike of adrenaline starts to zing through me as the minutes tick closer to midnight.
Putting my earbuds in, I press play on one of my go-to lists. When “Three Little Birds” rings out, I rip them out like they’re on fire.
Nope.
Eleven-fifty-four.
The day is almost over.
I shrug against my pillow.
Swallowing against the increasing tightness beneath my rib cage, I turn on my stomach to get some shut eye.
Facing her pillow, I run my eyes down the vacant space beside me.
Normally, she’d be lying there, talking randomly, animatedly, droning on about something while running her fingers along my skin, laughter filling my room when she finally drew the reaction she wanted from me.
Even if I’m grounded in the club capacity, I have plenty to do. A thousand books to read, minimum. Bird business to conduct, which means we probably won’t run into each other. Then again, we likely will. It’s inevitable. I’ll have to get Sean to give me the heads-up when she’s around to make things easier for her. Not that it will be hard for her since I just ensured she’ll hate me.
Toss.
She’s got the plant and Sean.
Catch.
She’s got Sean.
Squeeze.
Discarding the ball, I move to sit at the edge of the bed, ears perking up for any sign she’s with him.
Is she with him?
That thought begins to gnaw at me as a rare, raw type of jealousy threatens at the idea that he’s stealing my fucking time with her.
She wouldn’t do that.
It’s not his day.
But as of a few hours ago, the time is no longer mine.
I did this.
Made it this way.
No choice.
Craning my neck toward the wall that separates our rooms, I glare at it.
If she is with him . . .
Fuck that noise.
Denial is ripped from me completely when a foreign type of possessiveness overtakes me, and my heart starts to thrash in confirmation. Jerking on some sweats, I walk over to the wall and cup my ear, straining for any sound.
Nothing.
Fuck this.
Stalking down the hall, I slap open Sean’s bedroom door with my palm to see him alone, flipping channels, boots crossed on his bed, a beer in hand. He flashes me his signature smirk. “Sup man?”
Relief skitters through me as I jerk my chin. His lips quirk further as his eyes drift back to the TV. “I’m thinking maybe someone doesn’t want to say he’s sorry.”
“Fuck you.”
I turn to leave, and he calls to my retreating back. “She’s worth a lot more than an apology.”
I turn on a dime. “Yeah, what’s she worth to you?”
He uses my own tactic against me with silence—stupid question.
I glare over at him as he sips his beer. “What the fuck are we doing?”
“You know what you’re doing, same as me. We’re crossing an uncrossable line.” His shoulders roll forward with the weight of the admission. “But the difference between us is that I’ve already made peace with it,” he states in a tone that contradicts that declaration. “It’s harder for you, Dom, and no big mystery why.” His expression hardens into a look reserved only for those he’s about to pull the trigger on. “So, I’ll give you a fucking pass, brother, just this once, for thinking you’ll ever be able to rip that woman from my arms—especially if you so recklessly ever push her into them.”
“Oh, it’s like that?” I ask, tilting my head as if I didn’t hear him right.
“She’s my fucking girlfriend, asshole, and she’s destroyed right now because of you. She wouldn’t let me console her, so what the fuck kind of reception did you expect?”
He pulls on his beer as if he didn’t just threaten me for the first time in our lives, and I let that shit resonate before realizing I’m in his room for the exact same reason.
Regardless, the resentment that he did threaten me kicks in just as he speaks up. “I love you, brother,” he sighs, “more than any other, that’s the truth, but it’s not me you’re fighting. So, please don’t twist me into the enemy to justify the turmoil going on in that brilliant fucking brain of yours. It’s the decision that’s killing you softly, so make it and make your own peace with it, for all our sakes.” The warning returns in his eyes. “But know this. Your decision no longer has any bearing on mine. The time for that has fucking passed.”