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I'd never even considered that.
I'd been so wrapped up with Seeley getting hit, and being terrified, that I'd never considered the fact that the drive-by could have happened when dozens of strangers were still at the clubhouse.
"You ready?" Huck asked, coming back to the table. "We probably should be limiting our time out in public still," he added as I slid out of the booth. "Arty still doesn't have anything for us to go on," he added, voice a little tight. "So it could be anyone at this point," he added as we made it back to the bike.
"How do you live like this?" I asked, shaking my head. "All the uncertainty over who might want to kill you in cold blood?"
"I've been doing this shit for a long time. Once the newness of fear wears off, you don't really feel it anymore."
"But chopping cars doesn't sound like it was as dangerous as this is."
"From a possible blood murder standpoint, yeah, that was a lot tamer. It was more of a getting caught by the law risk. And, honestly, babe, I prefer this to that."
"A grave to a prison cell?"
"Pretty fucking much," he agreed, hopping on the bike.
I had the whole ride home to consider that, to try to decide which I would choose if I had to.
My whole life had been a prison of sorts, so for someone like me, I guess the prison sentence wouldn't be so daunting. But for someone like Huck, more action-oriented, someone who really valued his freedom, I could see him not wanting to sign up to live like I always have.
We got back to the clubhouse what felt like far too soon, and I had to force myself to release Huck, finding I liked being close to him way more than I should have.
In fact, it was getting harder and harder to claim that what I felt toward him was just plain attraction. While, yes, there was that, there was more to it. It wasn't nearly that cut-and-dry. Especially not after having him by my side with my family, actively working in subtle ways to shield me from the unpleasantness I always felt there.
I'd told him my story.
I'd agreed to let him teach me to ride.
That wasn't stuff you did when all you felt toward someone was a sort of detached attraction.
He was a good guy.
I think that was what was screwing me up. He wasn't just some asshole bad boy. He had that bad boy thing going for him, but it was paired with being an actual good man. And, well, that just wasn't fair.
I totally could have fought off simple attraction.
But actual interest?
I was pretty sure I had enough examples in the past of how terrible I had been about the men I was into to know that I couldn't just turn it on and off. I always hung on until the bitter end, wanting my initial hunches to be right, wanting something good to come out of all that effort.
It was stupid to think something good could come of my time with Huck. The man had admitted several times that women, to him, were for a good time only. He didn't do relationships. Of course he didn't. I mean no one in his little crew did.
Which left me between that proverbial rock and hard place.
Because I wanted something with him. And a part of me was weak enough to accept a physical thing because something was better than nothing. But I knew myself; I knew that it wouldn't be enough. I wasn't great with random hook-ups.
"What's wrong?" Huck asked, snapping me out of my swirling thoughts.
"What? Nothing. Why?" I asked.
"Because we've been parked here for like five minutes, and you haven't climbed off yet," he told me. "Not that I'm complaining about having you wrapped all around me, babe, but I figure that it is never a good thing when chicks are silent."
I practically flew off of him, off of the bike, reaching to pull the helmet off my head, placing it down on the seat.
"No, everything is fine. I was just, you know, replaying the day over in my head. You know, like you do," I said, shrugging.
"It wasn't a bad day," he said, sounding almost cautious, guarded. Like maybe he thought I was complaining?
"No, it wasn't bad at all. It was almost good. I mean it can never actually be good to be there, but it was close to good. I even had fun a couple times."
"Good," he said, towering over me, eyes intense.
"I, ah, I was thinking of, you know, doing some laps before I go in. I feel all sticky," I added. It was half true. The other half was the fact that I felt overheated from being too close to him, and I figured cooling off in the pool would be a smart move. Get some distance from him and all that.
