Page 25 of Cruz

“I read a lot. That’s not the same thing.” I carefully unscrew the glass base and set it on the ladder. My box of bulbs only has two more new ones left, but there are more on the counter. “Even if it was, I don’t find any use in asking myself what I would have done. I’m happy with the way my life turned out. I got a lot of breaks, and I did the best I could with what I had. I worked hard, and I’m here now.” Does that sound bad? Arrogant? Or like I settled and I’m stuck and okay with it? “It’s not too late,” I go on. “I could still go. There’s a community college in Hart.”

“I know. Raiden’s wife is a professor there.”

“Seriously?”

“Bikers can’t have smart, kind, funny partners?” His voice is almost perfectly smooth after all this talking. That’s me. I’m getting him to make words. Does he talk to Liam like this? To anyone?

I shouldn’t feel that ridiculous thrill that shoots through me at the fact that maybe this is different. Special. My heart thunders.

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just that… being a professor is a big deal. You need a lot of school for that. That’s incredible that she teaches there. Good for her.”

“Their marriage was arranged. You should ask Raiden sometime.”

“Like I’m ever going to do that,” I huff. At least I don’t choke this time, though that’s a shock. I didn’t know people still got married that way. “What do you mean arranged? This isn’t eighteen fifty-four.”

“They found love. Everyone has a story. Most you would probably like. Everyone at the club, I mean. You’d probably like to hear them.”

I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. Aren’t the best jests the ones that are mostly true? “What do I do in my free time?” I pick that question back up. “I read. I’ve tried painting, but I was terrible. I sew. I have an old machine. Most things I’ve tried are a disaster. On the odd Sunday, if we ever went to garage sales, or to Seattle, I’d thrift as much as I could and do some upcycling. Does that count for hobbies? I’m a professional sweater shopper.” I finish this fixture and study Cruz from above. It’s weird to be taller than him, given that he’s one of the largest human beings I’ve ever seen.

God, there goes my internal heat meter again, malfunctioning.

“Maybe you should work here.” That pops out as a joke, but Cruz’s jaw sets at a contemplative angle.

“Me?”

“I’m kidding!” I scramble down the ladder and grab a new box of bulbs. “Although, I’m sure there’s a large section of my clientele that would come in just to get drinks from you.” I shouldn’t use that teasing, flirty tone.

“Why?” He sounds utterly baffled.

“Because scary, beautiful men are a thing.” I turn around in time to see him blink, confused. I wish I could die on the spot. I didn’t just say that. Fuck my life. I blurt out my next question without thinking. “Why did you leave the SEALs? Was it just time, or do they have an age limit and they phased you out? Have you noticed that young people look so young? No. Likely not. Guys don’t become invisible the way that women do as they age.”

His frown deepens, the lines carved in around his eyes and mouth. Far from aging him, they give his face extra allure that he darned well doesn’t need.

“My knee.”

Oh. “You hurt it?”

“Yes. I had several surgeries. I needed time to heal. I didn’t go back. I started riding, drifting. Thought I’d have a gut instinct on where to end up.”

“And did you?” I’m almost afraid to ask, but I’ve been so nosey, what’s a little more?

“The lady at the diner did… Patti, and the rest was me, I guess. The guys too. They’re charismatic. It helped me make my decision.”

“That’s true.”

He falls silent. It was strange to hear him speak before, but now that he stops, it’s too quiet. I grab the ladder and take it to the next fixture. I try to compose myself. My face, at least. My pulse is beating far too fast. My palms are damp. My brain skips ahead to places it has no right to go. I’m starting to sneak far too many glances at Cruz’s face, specifically his lips. Wondering what they’d feel like against my own is a hard stop. Jam on the brakes and risk whiplash kind of full stop.

“You’re not invisible. You’re right here.”

Oh my god. I don’t want to melt, but that was said so sincerely, it’s hard to keep my chest from constricting.

“Thanks. That was a stupid thing to say.” I climb the ladder without looking back and focus on the light. My face is red hot and has all sorts of emotions stamped all over it, I’m sure. “I don’t really feel that way. Not all the time. I don’t feel like I missed this big chunk of my life, or like I have to get it back. I have the best memories. I enjoyed those years with Liam more than my own childhood. Happiness isn’t some bullshit state that finds you. It’s fleeting, and you have to work hard for it, and savor it when it comes. I tried to do that.” I unscrew the fixture a little too vigorously and have to make a quick catch before the glass drops on the floor and shatters. I suck in a deep, steadying breath. “I think that most people have this view that if you don’t have the typical family unit, there’s something missing or wrong with your life. I tried very hard to make sure that Liam never felt that way. I mean, maybe he did, but I tried to make sure that I loved him enough for the parent that was never there. A lot of people in Hart mentored him and were kind to him. This is a good town.”

“Your parents?”

My stomach twists sickeningly. “No. They moved right after I got pregnant. They kicked me out and then left town. My dad made up this excuse about taking a transfer, but the timing was so suspect. They were deeply ashamed. They were the kind of people who went to church on Sunday and still cared about having a sixteen-year-old daughter who was knocked up to the point they had to dump her and move away to save face.”

“I’m sorry.”