****
“What were you like in high school?” I asked curiously as I lay facing him on his couch. We’d just finished watching the movieHeathers,a cult classic that had made me think of that period of my life. The pizza we’d been sharing lay out on the coffee table. A few movies, a nap, and gorging on junk food had made it close to a perfect day.
He cocked his head, his gaze warm and curious. “The movie make you think of that? Christ, well my experience was a hell of a lot less dramatic and violent.” He chuckled.
I shrugged, looked off to the side. “I was just curious.”
He seemed to consider my question, realizing I was serious about it. “I’ve never really given it much thought. I don’t think I was much different than I am now, just less experienced.”
“So you were always confident and hot as hell,” I surmised.
He chuckled. “Glad you think so highly of me. What were you like?” he asked.
Why hadn’t I realized the question would come back to me?
“Shy, withdrawn,” I answered quietly. “I wasn’t always like that. In grade school, before my parents died, I had way more of a normal life. But I think it was part of my grief. I kind of naturally withdrew, and as kids got older and learned more about my family, they gave me a wide berth anyway. I guess I kind of forgot how to be….” I struggled to explain it. “I think I’m still learning,” I admitted.
He squeezed my thigh. “I should rephrase my answer. I was fucking lucky in high school. I had friends, parents who rode my ass if I fucked up, and a hell of a lot of support. I’ve never thought about it that way,” he confessed ruefully. “But you—you went through hell in more ways than one and still managed to turn into a successful, amazing woman. Impressed isn’t a strong enough word for it, babe.”
I blushed at his praise. “Thanks. My grandparents helped.” It was important to me that he knew that. “They loved me. But it wasn’t easy for them. They were far from ready to raise another kid. They had a full-time, demanding business to run and they never got over losing my dad. They tried their best.”
“I’m sure they did,” he replied quietly. “But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard for you. That it isn’t now.”
The fact he got that, that he took the time to understand it, spoke volumes.
“Did you feel like you had to join the Knights?” I asked. It was a question I’d been wanting to ask since I’d met him. After seeing the intimidation and fear tactics the mob used to recruit, I knew the members of the Knights MC were different, but I was still curious.
“Not at all.” His answer was resolute. “The MC was part of my life since I could remember, but my pop never made it some inevitable expectation that I’d join. He never made it seem like some family legacy that I had to keep alive. In fact,” he continued, “Mason, my childhood best friend, son of our former prez, Cal, didn’t end up joining at all. He went the college route and now plays football professionally. Cal couldn’t be prouder of his son and makes that shit known. That was the standard that was set and is still set today.” He scratched at his day-old whiskers as I wondered absently how they’d feel against my skin. “I joined because I couldn’tnot. It’s in my blood, I guess.” He shrugged. “As soon as I understood the concept, it was what I wanted. Nothing would get in my way.”
“What was it you wanted so badly about it?” I asked curiously.
“Brotherhood, loyalty, the drive to be part of something bigger than me.”
“You didn’t have to think about that response long,” I observed.
He eyed me steadily. “Nope.”
“If I’d had something like that, I would have wanted it too,” I admitted quietly.
He grasped my calf, squeezing gently. “Well, now you do.”
I wasn’t sure I believed that, not yet, but it sure was a nice fantasy.
I was about to say more, but a car alarm blared in the distance. Without delay, Maddox was on alert, rising from the couch. A moment later he reappeared from the bedroom brandishing a gun.
“Is that really necessary?” I squeaked in alarm as he peered out the window.
“Not taking any chances, sweets.” His response was firm, just as his phone rang. “Yeah?” he demanded, his jaw clenched as I heard a deep male voice respond on the line. “Good. Thanks, man. Yeah, later.” He was visibly less tense as he let the curtain drop and placed his gun and phone on the side table. “It’s all good,” he assured me, coming to my side and gently helping me up. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“B-but…,” I protested. “Do you have someone watching the street?”
He looked at me like I was crazy. “’Course I do. Every night.”
“Oh.” I couldn’t think of a more articulate response. I was too overwhelmed by the lengths he was going to in order to keep me safe. “Thank you.”
His nostrils flared. “You never have to thank me. Club may be in my blood, baby, but you’re in my heart. Let’s go to bed.”
Well, damn. Now I was downright speechless. I took his hand and followed him dutifully to bed, where for the first time in as long as I could remember, I slept soundly.
