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“Well, it doesn’t matter if he is or isn’t. The most important thing is he’s now available again,” Amber said with a smile and a gleam to her eyes.
He was? If so, that was news to her.
“Right, Tess? You don’t want him?” Amber asked.
Tessa’s mouth opened and nothing but a soft hiss escaped. Unfortunately, the ladies were staring at her, waiting for an answer. “Why would you ask that?” she forced out.
Crystal’s eyebrows rose. “Because you’ve been avoiding him ever since the crash. I figured you were mad at him or something.”
Trip and Stella’s house mouse must have missed the reason why Easy and Tessa were avoiding each other. Well, at least whatever Trip said the reason was.
Honestly, Tessa had no idea if Easy was done with her, but wouldn’t blame him if he was.
His problems were all because of her.
She pressed a hand to her lower belly. Right now her biggest problem was because of him. Although, she also had played a huge part in that, too.
“I’m not mad at him,” Tessa answered, once again yanking open the oversized door on the commercial fridge. She needed to grab what she had come for and then get the hell out of there. “Did the Amish bring cheese with that last delivery?”
“What kind of cheese?” she heard Crys ask behind her. “If there’s none in there, we have some up at the house.”
Thankfully, she found a shitload shoved toward the very back of the fridge so she wouldn’t have to go up and face Stella.
She tossed every block of cheese she could get her hands on into the shopping bag along with almost everything on Jemma’s list.
“Sooooo,” Angel dragged out. “I need to know. Is Easy available or not?”
“You would have to ask him,” Tessa told her.
With that, she took what felt like five pounds of cheese along with the other bounty she scavenged and got the fuck out of there.
When his ass vibrated, Easy slipped his cell phone out of his back pocket. He glanced down at the message that had popped up on his screen.
Sorry.
He pressed his lips together and read that single word several more times.
His thumbs hovered over the keyboard. They weren’t supposed to be talking to each other.
But would anyone know except for her and him?
Fuck it.
Fuck everyone.
If Trip found out, then…
Then he found out and whatever happened would happen. Easy would deal with it.
It couldn’t get any worse than it already was, could it? Being forbidden from seeing Tessa, a date with The Punisher…
He could lose his colors.
That thought made him pause.
He glanced around to see if Shade or Cassie were nearby. When he didn’t see either of them, he stepped outside to stand on the crematorium’s loading dock.
He typed out: No reason 2 B sorry. My fault 4 wreckn my fuckn new sled.
After he pressed Send, he realized he wasn’t finished. UR the 1 w/ the broken arm n bruises.
Not even thirty seconds later another message popped up. U got hurt 2.
Not like U, he answered back.
It had been completely fucking reckless and stupid of him to have taken her out in the middle of the night. He could’ve lost her because he was being a selfish fucker.
He.
Could’ve.
Fucking.
Lost.
Her.
That was all he could think about since it happened.
Fuck his bike.
Fuck the club.
Fuck Trip.
He could’ve lost Tessa and that close call had been ripping him open and clawing at his insides.
He missed her.
Fuck, did he miss her. A million times more than he thought he would.
He felt empty. A huge void remained where his heart had been.
But they were halfway there.
One week to go yet.
One week since he’d seen or talked to Tessa.
One week before he met The Punisher.
Afterwards—if he survived it—he was going to Trip and pleading his case to claim Tessa.
He already decided he wouldn’t take no for an answer. From Trip or her.
No less than a hundred times in the last week, he caught himself starting to head across that courtyard and into cluburbia to go claim his woman.
Because in the last week, he discovered the truth.
She might be younger than he’d prefer, but Tessa was his.
It wasn’t even a question anymore…
She belonged to him.
And it drove him half out of his mind to think of anyone else having her.
It was crazy how something that had started from nothing had become so fucking important to him.
His phone vibrated in his fingers and he realized he’d been gazing off into the back lot, not seeing shit. He read the next text.
Well, I just wanted 2 tell U sorry.
He quickly texted back. Don’t go. Talk 2 me.
We’re not supposed 2.
He was thirty-one fucking years old. Why the fuck did it feel like he was grounded?
It was complete bullshit. He and Tess were both adults. Maybe not the most responsible ones, but they were both more than old enough to make their own fucking decisions.
