“I was with Ryan,” she says. “I knew what his life was.”
“You knew parts of it.”
“I knew enough.”
“Not my club’s life. Not the Sinners.”
“What’s the difference?” she shoots back. “Ryan wanted to show me more. He just waited too long.” A pause, and then quieter, with an edge underneath that is more pain than anger. “And whose fault is that?”
I feel it land but don’t let it show, holding her gaze and keeping my voice level even though something in my chest has tightened considerably.
“You always get this fired up?” I ask.
Her brows pull together. “What?”
I let my gaze move over her face for just a second, the set of her mouth, the fire in her eyes, the way she’s standing like she has absolutely no intention of backing down from anyone, ever, under any circumstances.
“When you don’t get your way. Is it always like this?”
“No,” she says. And then, slightly quieter. “I just didn’t expect you to be so stubborn.”
“Is that right?” My voice comes out rougher than I intend. “You haven’t seen how stubborn I can get.”
Her breath catches just for a second, and the air between us shifts, not softer, just heavier. More aware of itself somehow, the way the air gets when two people are standing too close, and neither of them has moved away yet.
“Tate…” she starts, but there is less bite in it now.
I force myself back into the conversation and out of whatever that is.
“I understand this is frustrating,” I say, keeping my voice measured. “But this isn’t about me being difficult. It’s about you understanding what you’re actually asking to walk into.”
Her jaw tightens, but her voice drops. “I already understand more than you think.”
“Do you?”
She hesitates.
Just enough.
And I see it, that crack in the certainty, the truth sitting just underneath everything she’d been holding together.
“I said no,” she says suddenly, quieter now. “To Ryan.”
That pulls me up short.
“He asked me to be his ol’ lady,” she continues, her voice shaking slightly at the edges. “And I told him I needed more time.”
She swallows. “I thought I had more of it.”
The words hang between us, heavy and real.
Running a hand down the back of my neck, I let out a slow breath. “Yeah. I know.”
Her eyes snap up to mine. “You knew?”
“He told me.”
She exhales, short and sharp, like that confirmation hurts more than she’d been prepared for it to.
